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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593833">Things Change</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletArroyo/pseuds/VioletArroyo'>VioletArroyo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel is an Idiot, Angel needs to get his foot out of his mouth, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Spike (BtVS), Coming Untouched, Dawn is too perceptive, Dialogue Heavy, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Excessive Drinking, Fear of Rejection, First Time Blow Jobs, Fist Fights, Flirting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lying to themselves, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Morning After, Mutual Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Regret, Running Away, Sappy Ending, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Souled Vampires Can Actually Have Vanilla Sex, Spike's Favorite Coping Mechanism is Anger, Tags May Change, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Teasing, The Characters Took Over And Made Me Write a Happy Ending, This fic has taken over my life this last week, Top Angel, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Weddings, lots of introspection, resolved emotional tension, spike is an idiot, these guys are hopeless, working out problems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:28:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletArroyo/pseuds/VioletArroyo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike once told Angel that they don't change, not demons. But, now they both have souls, are both fighting the good fight and things, well....things are starting to change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angel/Spike (BtVS)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dark Places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This uses a little comics canon, but nothing big enough it makes it hard to follow if you've never read them. Obviously, the entire Twilight arc didn't happen, though. </p><p>Sex is in Chapters 4, 7, 8, 10 and 12 whether you want to read or avoid. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You should pace yourself.”</p><p>Angel's commanding voice echoes like a gunshot in the dark space, makes Spike cringe at the way the sound surrounds him, something he can't escape. He takes a moment to look up, to try and see the tiny light of Angel's mobile. It's still little more than a pinprick, more use to Angel than Spike.</p><p>“Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well on the way down.”</p><p>“I hear it when you slip, idiot. You're going to end up falling back down if you keep climbing so recklessly.”</p><p>“If you'd've remembered some bloody rope, I'd've been outta here by now, you stupid sod.”</p><p>“I didn't forget the damn rope, Spike! I didn't bring any because I didn't know you'd find a way to stumble your stupid ass down a bottomless pit in the middle of a cavern. Although, now that I think about it, I should have known. It is you, after all.”</p><p><i>Oh, that's about it, you big wanker!</i> “Ta, ever so, mate! It's not bottomless, as my broken leg can attest. And why is rope not on your standard list of caving supplies? Woulda thought the oh-so-bloody-important Champion of the final bloody Apocalypse to be better prepared, like a proper little boyscout.  Also, we're vampires, not bats; it's dark in here even for us and full of the wrong kind of echoes for location. How did you not bring a brighter torch? Even my lighter is useless down here. Hell, vamp face is even useless, only lets me see another couple o' feet. How the bloody hell was I suppose' to spot a sinkhole that wasn't there until the ground fell out under me? Fuck you very much, you arrogant arse!”</p><p><i>There's the Spike I need right now: fed up with me and even more reckless. Good going, self.</i> “Fine, whatever...just...shut up and stop trying to go so fast.” Angel can hardly separate his thoughts when Spike makes him twirl between frustration, anger, and worry so fast. <i>Quit wasting precious energy, Spike. You're injured. You need to concentrate on climbing, not me.</i> “You waste more time with every slip, Spike.”</p><p>“How 'bout you shut it and let me concentrate, git? That would really help me.”</p><p>Angel rolls his eyes and resists the urge to sigh, loud and exasperated. <i>I really hate it when he intuits shit. How did I get stuck with a damned Englishman without a deep thought in his head who manages to understand people on instinct alone? Couldn't have had someone else around, like maybe an Irish ex-schoolteacher or something, right?</i> He puts both hands to his face and rubs vigorously, then swings his arms back to his sides and decides to be quiet and wait, no matter what Spike says or does.</p><p>This had been a simple recon mission to check out the Fyarl demons living in these caves since the battle with Wolfram &amp; Hart. The Fyarls are hiring themselves out as muscle for the small time demon gangs jockeying for position in the power vacuum the Senior Partners left when they pulled roots out of this dimension. Angel just needs to know their number, their entrance and exit passages, and the easiest strategy to take them down. It somehow turned into a hazard pit, literally. <i>Only Spike and his dumb luck.</i> He rubs a hand over his face, again having to resist the impulse to shout out when he hears Spike slipping on loose rocks and dirt, hears the soft cursing.</p><p>It's been nearly an hour and a half since the blond fell down the hole. Angel spent almost the entire first hour yelling to a semi-conscious Spike to keep him somewhat awake and get him moving. He'd also spent time searching for a way to climb down only to nearly slip and fall himself. As deep as the narrow pit is, the smell of Spike's leg and head injuries, such old and familiar blood, jumped out (still jumps out) at Angel like an emergency flare. He's irritated with the whole thing, is all. It has nothing to do with caring about each other. <i>Shut up, Angelus. We really don't.</i> He suddenly notices the stillness coming from the pit. Spike isn't moving. Why isn't he moving?</p><p>Angel gets down on his knees on the solid side of the newly sheared rock face and tries to peer past the overhanging crag, hands tightly gripping the edge, cell phone balanced near the precipice. The overhang represents the reason he can't climb down, but he can haul Spike over it when the other man gets to the top. The bleached head shines, a small white dot, about halfway down the nearly vertical passage, Spike somehow holding his lean body away from the wall he's been climbing, staring at the rock slightly above him. Angel shoves aside his instantaneous relief at being able to finally see Spike, rather than just hear and smell him, and strains forward to get a slightly better focus.</p><p>There's another outcrop right where Spike has stopped, one hand on the ledge. It doesn't look impassable to Angel, but Spike is closer and has a different perspective. Biting back on his first instinct, (which is to ask the idiot just what the hell he's waiting for) Angel counts to three before he clears his throat mildly, so as to not startle Spike with his next words.</p><p>“Can you climb over it?”</p><p>There's a pause before Spike answers and Angel doesn't like that at all. Spike hasn't moved, not his head, not his body, nothing, since Angel first looked down at him.</p><p>“Not sure.”</p><p>Angel swallows involuntarily as he attempts not to over-read the far-too-neutral sound of the familiar baritone. Spike is never neutral and when his responses are simple and short, without attitude, something's wrong. <i>Damn it, Spike.</i> Angel keeps his next question equally simple and short, his voice equally neutral.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Silence greets Angel once more before Spike moves his head, very slowly, to look up at his grandsire. Angel can't make out too many details, even though he's been wearing his demon visage to better his eyesight, but Spike's jaw is set firmly. Angel can imagine those sharp cheekbones popping out more than normal, especially in the very dim light. The brunette swallows convulsively again. <i>I don't care, just get back up here, you annoying little shit.</i></p><p>“There's a youngling Fyarl in a small crevice right above this shelf. Surprised you didn't hear it hiss and spit. Moves every time I do. Pretty sure it's gonna try to kill me if I go anywhere near it, given the last two tries it almost bit a chunk outta me. The rock opposite is too loose to grip, so I've gotta go up this way and if I dig in for handholds around the shelf, I'll loosen this side too much. If I had a free hand, or even a free leg, I could kill the bloody thing, but as it stands...”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>Angel pushes away from the edge and sits back on his bent legs, hands on knees, head pointing upward, considering their options. There aren't any. He shakes his head to loosen the sudden feeling of gravitas and leans forward again. Spike is still staring up at where Angel had been.</p><p>“You need to go back down.”</p><p>“Angel, there's no way out down there. We covered this!”</p><p>“Yeah, but it's relatively safe, for now. Fyarls can see slightly better in the dark than we can, but not long distances, you know that. You should escape their notice until I can get here with some backup and what, a couple hundred feet of climbing rope or chain maybe?”</p><p>“You can't bloody leave! If they realize one of their young is stuck down here, they're gonna think I did it on purpose, gonna find a way down, rip me limb from limb, mate.”</p><p>“Spike. What choices do we have?”</p><p>Spike gets quiet, again. The Fyarl must have chosen that exact moment of silence to move, because the blond head suddenly whips back toward where he'd earlier indicated the crevice resided. Angel hears a long, low growl: Spike warning the toddling to stay back. Angel knows, instinctively, Spike has gone into vamp-face, fangs fully bared. There's yet another moment of silence and Angel swears he hears the bones slowly shift back to human form.</p><p>“Right. You leave me here and I dust, I'm coming back to haunt your fat arse. Again.”</p><p>“Fine. Just no using necromancers to punch me, this time.”</p><p>***</p><p>It's been nearly three hours since Angel left. Spike has an incredibly accurate clock in his head, so he's sure of this. It's not a vampire thing; he could count the minutes, hours, days, by the age of ten. Spike's not sure why the whole time-keeping thing is a trait of his, but it is, nonetheless. There are instances when he thinks he'd much rather have Angel's eidetic memory, then realizes there are certain things he's still trying to make himself forget, so he'll take the internal quartz precision, ta very much. Alcohol helps quell it. <i>Bit o' weed wouldn't go bad at the mo'. Ain't touched it in decades, but I'm in need o' stronger options on forgetting time right now. Huh. Need weed to be freed from time's deadly deeds. Oi. Still bloody awful, William.</i></p><p>It took Spike about twenty-seven minutes to inch back down the side of the rift, so he was at least occupied that long.  He knows it took them almost exactly half an hour to get to the part of the caves where he fell, so Angel should have made it out as Spike was climbing. He knows the drive to the Hyperion from the Hollywood Hills takes Angel a whopping twenty minutes at the speeds he gets up to. <i>And the great wanker accuses me of being a speed demon.</i> Spike snickers to himself at his accidentally-on-purpose pun, before a tiny mewling growl high above his head reminds him why he's still stuck at the bottom of his own personal hellhole.</p><p>“Yeah, you're a scary li'l nipper, huh? Lucky I ain't up to snuff, is what you are, or I'd show you a real bite, you bitty pisser.”</p><p>Spike was getting antsy before, but now he feels downright itchy. By his clock, Angel is about an hour and twenty minutes overdue. He wants to pace the roughly oval shaped space at the bottom of the chimney he's got himself stuck down, but his leg is still broken. It's a relatively simple fracture of the tibia, even with compounding through the skin, but it will take another day or two to heal now he's pushed bone and muscle back into place, and he's already exasperated the injury trying to climb out of the pit. </p><p>He wishes he had his cigarettes. He gave them up for a while, even after he resolidified. He smoked like a man on fire those last few days in Sunnydale, but not here in Los Angeles. Something about holding an open flame close just so he could breathe the smoke shallowly enough to feel alive suddenly didn't appeal. <i>Probably due to the whole burning to a crisp down in the Hellmouth, maybe, you stupidly loyal nodge?</i> Then Angel sent L.A. to hell and in the face of the daily reality, a lit fag on his lips didn't seem so awful anymore. Spike conveniently ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him how he helped Angel send L.A. to hell, so he really shouldn't whinge about it so often, especially since he also helped Angel rescue L.A. from hell.</p><p>Spike knows he is decidedly not worried about Angel. He knows the big lummox can handle a few Fyarls on his own. He's more worried about his own circumstances, such as they are. He's irritated that Angel hasn't made it back yet. He's annoyed he hasn't heard Angel approaching the hole above him. He's furious that one tiny demon, something he should be able to dispatch in less than a minute, has him trapped. </p><p>He's slightly frustrated with himself for still being in L.A., instead of taking off for England the second the news reached them Buffy hadn't actually been dating The Immortal and the New Watcher's Council had been playing decoy games. He's not sure of the validity of all the arguments he's used to convince himself why seeing Buffy again is a bad idea for both himself and the girl. This means he now has not a clue why he stayed in L.A. one second longer than necessary after he became solid again. He's confused why he's still here, still helping Angel with his fight, instead of helping Buffy with her's. He's almost positive it's not because Angel needs him more than Buffy ever will, even if that's the thought which gets caught in a never-ending loop inside his head. <i>Yeah, 'cause it's not like I can admit that I need to be needed, right? Be the laughing stock of the demon underworld. Even the great, moping Brow himself would laugh.</i></p><p>He's bored being stuck down here with nothing but his own overactive imagination for company. He's reimagining all the ways he could have killed Angel, back when he actually wanted to kill him. He still doesn't like the old bludger, but he doesn't really hate him anymore, either, so killing him isn't a done thing these days. Spike's been aware for some time he and Angel have had ample opportunities to kill each other over the last century and a half and something's always stopped them. He's just not sure that “something” has anything to do with giving a damn about each other.</p><p>
  <i>Yeah, and even if we do give a damn, it's just habit and nothin' else. He didn't off me as Angelus 'cause he didn't want to deal with the decades of fits Dru would've thrown. He didn't off me on that u-boat 'cause he knew I'd've seen it coming way before he struck, knowing him better than those other sloughers, and he didn't need the trouble. He didn't off me in Sunnydale because...well, not sure, really, 'cause he should've offed me and Dru both at that point, least before he lost his soul and it all went pear-shaped. Nearest I can figure is he thought Buffy would do it and he wouldn't have to fess up to being the reason Drusilla and I exist in the first place. He hasn't offed me here in L.A. because he needs me. Right? But, he offered to send me away on Wolfram and Hart's dime, so he doesn't think he needs me. Right?</i>
</p><p>He's most assuredly not letting himself think about why Angel isn't back yet. He's definitely not picturing Angel facing a dusty end at the hands of a few dozen moronic demon goons. He does not care if Angel is dead. He does not care about Angel, whatsoever. <i>And if I just say it to myself about a hundred thousand more times, I might actually believe it</i>. He's just as sure Angel could give a twig about him. <i>That one I bloody well do believe.</i></p><p>Spike leans his head back hard on the cavern wall he's been sitting against and lets out a frustrated growl. He's not a big thinker. He had too much time to think after he was chipped in Sunnydale, after he got over the crazies the First gave him when he got his soul back, while he was a not-quite-a-ghost wandering the halls of lawerly evil, while he spent hours alone waiting for the big bang he'd known was coming. It had actually been a relief to be in Hell A., busy with things other than thinking, then to Vegas to prove he didn't need anybody <i>(another one I have to say a hundred thousand times, I suppose)</i>. And, then, for some damnedable reason he is yet to figure out, he'd come back to L.A. and once again found himself with too much time to think. And that means he does nothing but run unproductive circles in his own head, because, while William had a good education, it doesn't mean he spent overmuch time actually thinking. <i>Go with my heart, even when it's not beating. Think I'd learn.</i> </p><p>The thing is, over the last couple years they've worked through the wall of old resentments that lay between them and now there is this big empty space instead, something neither of them have any idea how to fill or name. Spike being Spike, he generally has two modes with people: hate and snark, or love and snark. Since the soul, the third mode added seems to be friendly and snark. Angel doesn't fit any of those paradigms, though. Well, maybe fake hate and cover-up snark. They enter friend territory very occasionally and then both back away at record speed.</p><p><i>So, what are we to each other, then? Comrades in the great good vs. evil battle? Comrade implies brotherly affection, though. And this ain't that. A twisted vampire version of family. That's closer, I suppose, though still not quite right.</i> Spike suddenly jerks his head up at the smell of blood, Angel's. He listens closely and can just barely hear approaching footsteps, fifteen or twenty minutes distance at that pace. He stands up quickly, cursing as he catches his broken leg at the wrong angle, and is treated to another whimpering growl from above.</p><p>“Oh, bugger off you little savage.”</p><p>Spike starts to head over to the opposite wall, again testing for footholds, again finding crumbling rock. The smell of Angel's blood is potent.</p><p>“Bloody hell. Angel?!! I can hear you, you old lumbering sod!!”</p><p>Spike starts wanting to pace again, not liking his inability to do anything but wait. Finally, he hears the sluggish footsteps round the tunnel into the cavern above him.</p><p>“Can smell you, too. Why did you go and get yourself injured when I'm the one who needs help, here?” </p><p>A pause.</p><p>“You are damn lucky I'm not dust, you annoying ass. Got set on by five Fyarls near the cave entrance. Killed two easy, the next two not so much. Last one gorged me with a tree branch. Wrong side of my chest. I'm really glad Fyarls are idiots. You, however, I am not glad are an idiot. Give me about another twenty minutes to heal up a little and then I'll shimmy around to the other side and lower the rope.”</p><p>“Shimmy? That'll be the day. Get a couple pictures for me.”</p><p>“You're not funny.”</p><p>“I'm hilarious. You're just a maudly old codger who doesn't know how to have fun.”</p><p> “I have fun.”</p><p>“Do not.”</p><p>“Do so”</p><p>“Do not.”</p><p>“Do s....damn it Spike. Shut up.”</p><p>To Angel's surprise, Spike decides to be quiet. An uncomfortable silence, broken only by occasional snarls from the young Fyarl as it rustles in its crag, descends in the cave. Angel breaks it this time.</p><p>“I watch hockey. And old movies. I read. I have fun.”</p><p>Spike snorts. “Hockey is boring, 'cept for the fights. Old movies are OLD, Angel. Reading is enjoyable (not so much the stuff you read), but it's not really fun. Go to a pub. Get drunk. Watch new movies.”</p><p>“Soccer isn't boring?”</p><p>“Football. It's football. And you're missing the point, as usual.”</p><p>Angel grimaces, realizing quickly that Spike's goading him into asking a question to keep an unnecessary conversation going, anything to fill the silence. Unable to not rise to the bait <i>(can never just let the limey bastard hit a brick wall, can you Angel)</i>, Angel asks the obvious.</p><p>“What's the point?”</p><p>“We're going to have an eternity of being punished in Hell. It's useless to punish ourselves now. Live a little. Figuratively, of course.”</p><p><i>Well. That was unexpected.</i> The shock of Spike's apparently thought out answer sends Angel back into silence. He slumps his head onto his shoulder, wondering why what Spike said is so hard to accept. It's not like he hasn't thought it himself at times. He's always answered himself that he doesn't deserve anything good. Hell won't be punishment enough, honestly.</p><p>He rises to his feet, grunting at the brief pressure on his right chest and shoulder, and makes his way over to the other wall, secures the rope around his waist, and lowers it into the pit as he lowers himself onto his knees, leaning back to provide further support. He feels the tugs as an unusually quiet Spike grabs the rope and climbs. In less than a couple minutes he reaches out his hand to pull Spike back onto the cavern floor beside him. They remain silent as Angel unties and rewinds the rope. Spike gives Angel an odd, pondering look, but neither of them acknowledge it before Spike speaks.</p><p>“Chest okay? You're still bleeding.”</p><p>“Yeah, it's fine. Leg?”</p><p>“Fine. Just need a couple days to rest it.”</p><p>“I'd ask about your head, but there's not much there to worry about.”</p><p>“Well, yeah, I don't have your enormous forehead to worry about.”</p><p>Feeling like they'd entered more familiar ground, Angel stands up and looks back over the edge of the hole for a moment, struck by a startling thought. He wonders if he should tell Spike or not. <i>What the hell, he already thinks I'm a wet blanket</i>.</p><p>“Think there's any more Fyarls around?”</p><p>Spike tilts his head to the side, looking at Angel. <i>We know where this is going, don't we?</i></p><p>“Probably not. They usually don't nest more than four or five to a space.”</p><p>“So, no food coming back; the baby is going to die, then.”</p><p>“It's a demon toddler. If it were grown, we would have killed it ourselves.”</p><p>“Still...starvation is a pretty bad way to go.”</p><p>Spike lets out an exasperated sigh before replying, “Then lower me back down on the rope so I can have some limbs free. I'll break its neck, the nasty little bugger.”</p><p>“Yeah, alright. I wish there was another way, but.....better than letting it starve.”</p><p>“Big softie. Come on, let's get it done and get out of here. I'm sure there's other nests in nearby caves and I don't want to have to fight my way past woods full of Fyarls.”</p><p>“I am NOT a softie.”</p><p>Spike chuckles as he gets ready to climb back down.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Actual Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Angst Ahoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne pokes her head around the office door. “Got a minute?”</p><p>“Sure. What do you need?”</p><p>Anne came through the door, closing it behind her. She's back to spending most of her time at her youth shelter, but she still came by a few nights a week to help with paperwork.</p><p>“Well, it's about Spike.”</p><p>Angel steeles himself for the litany of complaints. “What's he done now?”</p><p>“Nothing, nothing. But Gunn and I have both noticed he's been really quiet lately. If you know Spike for longer than a minute, you know he's not the quiet type.”</p><p>Which is more than true. <i>What's wrong with him, now? Thinking of leaving LA again? No, no, he wouldn't do that to me. No, not me...the mission, he wouldn't do that to the mission.</i> Angel opens his mouth to say something, then realizes he doesn't actually have anything to say.</p><p>Anne kind of gives him a wide-eyed, “aren't you going to say something” look. When Angel still can't think of a way of inquiring if she thinks something's wrong with Spike without making it sound like he actually cares about Spike, she clears her throat and sits down on Angel's desk, leaning forward.</p><p>“Aren't you going to ask if we know what's wrong with him, or tell us you know what's wrong with him? Because even you don't hate him that much.”</p><p>Her astuteness and bluntness makes Angel wince. <i>Hate Spike? Well, yeah, I suppose, maybe I did. Do I still?</i> “I don't hate Spike. I just don't like him. Well, I guess I don't always dislike him as much as I used to, either, but there's a difference between hating someone and disliking them.”</p><p>“Gunn says you hate him.”</p><p>“I...I guess I kind of did. I mean, I didn't really hate anyone when I didn't have a soul, because I couldn't feel real feelings, but afterwards, yeah, I kind of hated him. He did a lot of bad shit in Sunnydale, then the whole thing with Buffy didn't exactly endear him to me. When he showed up at Wolfram &amp; Hart he got in the way a lot and, well you know Spike, he likes to get under people's skin. But, especially after Illyria showed up, I think we stopped hating each other. We still fight, but that's just us. We're oil and water. What's that got to with him being quiet?”</p><p>“It doesn't. You're the one who grabbed a tangent and ran off with it. Do you have any idea what's wrong with him? We're worried. Even Illyria said something about her 'pet' losing his vigor for witticisms.”</p><p>That floors him. <i>They're all worried about Spike?</i> “You're all worried about Spike? Didn't he try to eat you back in Sunnydale?”</p><p>“Well, you've got a soul and want me to trust you because of it, so it's only fair I trust him because of it. He's never seemed like that monster I met back then, either. I mean, he's still a smart-ass, but I care about him. If I didn't like smart-asses, Gunn and I never would have been friends.”</p><p>
  <i>How does that little shit garner so much affection and not even realize it? I had better find an answer I can give her before she asks me to talk to him. That won't go well.</i>
</p><p>“Huh. Look, he gets quiet when he's thinking about something he considers important and since thinking isn't exactly his thing, he usually has to think a while to get to whatever it is he's trying to get to.”</p><p>“See, that doesn't make me worry less, it makes me worry more. Something's obviously got him wrapped up in his own head. Can't you talk to him and help him work it out?”</p><p><i>Well, that backfired. Damn it.</i> “Me? Why me?”</p><p>“You know him well enough to tell me he's just thinking. You know him better than any of us, Angel. You're the only one who knows how to wheedle the truth out of him. He was giving us wisecracks when we asked him what's wrong, but now he's just getting pissy with us about it. A pissy Spike is not an easy Spike to talk to, unless it's you. You and he are always pissy with each other.”</p><p><i>We are not! Well, maybe. But it's not like it used to be. It's...</i>“It's more companionable snark and semi-friendly insults these days.”</p><p>“Sometimes I see that, but not all the time. It's hard for me to tell the difference. See, further proof you know him well enough to help get him back to normal.”</p><p>“There's nothing about Spike that's normal.”</p><p>“You know what I mean. Stop dodging.”</p><p>Angel's shoulders drop. “Yeah, alright. I'll talk with him. But it's probably not going to work, just so you know.”</p><p>***</p><p>Spike isn't in his room when Angel goes to see him a few hours later. Either that, or he's not answering the door. Spike has a habit of wandering the hotel, however, looking in rooms for furniture he can destroy with practice kicks and punches. Maybe he's in the mood to actually go out and practice on local vamps. Angel feels a swooping sense of relief, sure Spike is too preoccupied with whatever is bothering him to actually want to talk. He doesn't look for him and instead goes to the roof. He needs a place to think, himself, and the roof is his go to spot when he's not wanting to brood in his own rooms. </p><p>
  <i>Did we somehow change? I mean, of course we've changed; we've both got souls now. Does his having a soul change how I feel about him? He didn't act different when he first showed up at Wolfram &amp; Hart. But, he actually had. He's got tells. The way he was with Fred and Lorne. The way he is with Gunn and Anne. He even shows Illyria affection occasionally. So, it's just me he acted like the same little shit with. Figures. I guess we haven't changed when it comes to each other. He brings out the worst in me. But....we don't argue the same way. It's not as important for me to be right with him anymore. Does he feel that way? Why am I going in circles about this? What is it about him that provokes such strong reactions from me? Why are those reactions different? Have we really changed that much with each other?</i>
</p><p>The wheel keeps spinning in Angel's head, progressing and retreating, a cycle of frustration. He can't think about anything else and that's starting to really irritate him. He's just about to turn around and stomp back down the stairs when he hears someone coming up those same stairs. He listens to the door open and an old familiar smell hits his nose. <i>Speak of the devil.</i> He hears Spike take in a sharp breath, before releasing it in a <i>(irritated?)</i> sigh.</p><p>“Shoulda known I'd find your broody arse up here.”</p><p>Without turning around, Angel refuses to rise to the bait this time, deciding to provoke Spike instead. In his best sarcastic voice he answers, “You were looking for me? How sweet. Didn't know you cared.”</p><p>There's a slight pause before Spike comes up with a snappy response: something which wouldn't mean much if Angel wasn't already thinking about what they are to each other anymore. As it stands, it's an indication that Spike was somewhat taken aback by Angel's words, something Angel didn't expect.</p><p>“Well, ya know, I need to know where you are for when I have to stake you.”</p><p>Angel leans forward, puts his hands on the ledge, adopting a casual manner without realizing it. “You're planning on staking me? So much for your shiny new soul.”</p><p>“No, you thick headed lug. You get a big happy and the psycho bastard shows up, I'm dusting you. Dealt with too much of Angelus over the years. Can't wait to put him down.”</p><p>“Careful. You only beat me last time because I was in a bad place. Angelus isn't as easy to rattle.”</p><p><i>Huh.</i> Spike can't keep the genuine surprise from his voice. “I rattle you?”</p><p>Angel rolls his eyes and finally turns around, leaning his butt back on the ledge, letting his legs forward a little, crossing his ankles and crossing his arms over his chest. Spike is still standing by the door, reluctant to move forward. Angel's posture is bothering him for some reason. The fact he doesn't know the reason bothers him further. He hides his confusion and frustration behind a eyebrow quirk and a smug smile.</p><p>“Idiot. I was rattled at Wolfram &amp; Hart, doubting the Shanshu Prophecy was really about me, wondering if I'd lost sight of the mission. It wasn't you, per se. I mean, you having a soul was part of it, but not you in particular.”</p><p>Spike's expression collapses into a frown. <i>Ouch. Why the bloody hell did that hurt so much? Why the bloody hell is he standing there so casually, talkin' to me so easy? He's always tense while we're talkin'. Why is it bothering me?</i> Unable to chain his genuine feelings behind a clever response, his next words tumble out fast and angry, no pretense at all.</p><p>“Nice to know. Makes staking you eventually even easier, knowin' you still don't give a shit about me.”</p><p>Angel raises his eyebrows, unable to understand Spike's angry response. <i>I never said I don't give a shit about him. What did I say to set him off?</i></p><p>“What the hell, Spike? What makes you think I don't give a shit?”</p><p>Spikes anger collapses in an instant, replaced by an intense curiosity. He tilts his head and opens his expression.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>Angel can't get a hold on Spike's words, watching the emotions play fast across the blond's face. His own confusion makes him frown back at Spike. </p><p>“Do what? You're not making sense. Not like that's new or anything.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, keep sussing to avoid answering.”</p><p>“Jesus. Why do you have to be so difficult?” Angel uncrosses his arms and stands straight, advancing a few steps towards Spike. He lowers his shoulders, bending ever so slightly to be on eye level, talking slowly as if to a toddler, knowing it'll set Spike off again, but not really caring: “I mean what I said. I don't understand. I do what?”</p><p>Spike takes a few steps towards Angel, anger back on his face.</p><p>“You're a dullard, you know that? I meant, you DO give a shit about me now?”</p><p>Spikes emotions are all over the place and it's throwing Angel off, so much so he can't hide his surprise at the question. <i>He cares whether or not I care? Since when?</i> He raises his arms slightly away from his body and then back down again, slapping his thighs lightly, looking up at the smoggy sky. <i>Jesus. How do I answer a question I've been asking myself? I don't actually know and that bothers me. Damn the emotional twit. Well, here goes nothing.</i> He brings his head back down and looks him straight in the eye, seeing a flash of hurt before the blinds come down and Spike becomes unreadable, closed off. <i>Guess it's going to have to be the truth, then.</i></p><p>“I don't know, okay? I don't hate you, which I'm sure I did, ever since China, seeing the pride in your eyes at killing a teenage girl just because she was a Slayer. But, that's not you anymore. The soul...well, it changed me and it took me a while to see, but it's changed you, too. I kind of even like you sometimes. I don't <b>not</b> care about you. Does it really matter? We're on the same side, now. You're part of my team. Can't we just work with that?”</p><p>The anger slowly drains from Spikes face as he listens to Angels words. He wasn't expecting an answer, let alone one that echoes all the thoughts running through his own head for weeks, ever since the cavern, realizing he has to admit to himself (but definitely not anyone else) he really does worry about Angel when the bastard is hurt or upset. His hands come up to his hips and he glances down at the ground before meeting Angels eyes again.</p><p>“Your team is also your friends. I mean, I don't really like you, just don't hate you anymore...but...we could be like...friendlier with each other or, ya know, somethin'.” Spike hesitates here, wishing he can take those last words back even as they fall from his lips in a embarrassed staccato.</p><p>Angel smiles slightly. “Considering we're having an actual conversation right now...considering we've always been able to get along somewhat when we forget how much we hated each other...I don't think that's impossible.”</p><p>“Right. Well...” Spike awkwardly puts his arms across his chest, burying his hands in his armpits, closing off in a tight self-hug. He rocks a couple times on his heels, completely lost for a segue. Angel is still looking at him with a slight smile, a little smug, too.</p><p>“You know, if I'd always known being nice to you was the way to shut you up, I'd have been doing it long before now.”</p><p>Spike lets his arms down in relief, glad Angel has lifted the burden of what to say. Without any real venom in his voice, he replies, “Oh, piss off, wanker.”</p><p>“I was here first. You piss off.” Angel is still smiling, a genuine small upturn of lips, like he's actually enjoying the back and forth. Spike has no idea what to do with the image, especially the little warm tug it puts in his chest. He chooses deflection instead.</p><p>“No. Don't wanna. Came up here ta think. If you leave I can do it.”</p><p>“You? Think?”</p><p>“Yeah. I can actually do that.”</p><p>“Must have to try really hard.”</p><p>Spike accidentally slips into a genuine grin. “Must be the reason you brood so much, tryin' so hard ta actually gather a thought.”</p><p>“Oh, ow, that hurt soooo much. Idiot.”</p><p>“Wanker.”</p><p>There's a small pause as Angel and Spike smile at each other. They both come to the realization that's what they're doing at the same time and look away. Angel clears his throat, seeing his chance to talk with Spike about his quietness. He looks back at him, straight faced.</p><p>“Anne asked me to talk to you.”</p><p>Spike looks back with a slight frown, confusion in his eyes. He shakes his head quickly and stalks past Angel, brushing the taller man's arm almost aggressively, and makes his way over to the roof's ledge, standing much as Angel had earlier, looking out at the city.</p><p>“Shoulda known. No way you'd actually talk to me unless somebody else asked you to. So, that's what all this is about, then?”</p><p>Angel had turned with Spike, looking at his back. He puts his hand to his face, rubbing his cheek with one finger, right near his nose. He then slices the air with the same hand, pointing it at Spike, knowing he can't be seen.</p><p>“You really are an idiot. The conversation we just had isn't the one I planned on having with you.”</p><p>Spikes shoulders, which had been tensed up and raised a little, relax. He twists his head to the side trying to look over his right shoulder at Angel, who's moved his hand back down.</p><p>“What do ya wanna talk about, then? What'd Anne ask ya to say?”</p><p>“She didn't. She came into the office this afternoon and told me she and Gunn (and even Illyria a little bit) are worried about you, that you've been too quiet lately and you're snapping at them every time they ask you what's wrong. I told her you're probably just trying to work something out, but she still asked me to talk to you.”</p><p><i>Worried? Figured they were just curious.</i> </p><p>“Yeah, well, you tell Anne nothing's wrong. She doesn't seem to believe it when I say it.”</p><p>“Probably because you're acting like something's wrong. What are you thinking about? Maybe I can help?”</p><p>“Just leave it, Angel. I'll get it figured out eventually.”</p><p>“Spike.”</p><p>“I don't need your help.”</p><p>“Yes, you do. I mean, I know thinking isn't really your thing, but usually you're only like this for a day or two, not weeks."</p><p>“You never saw me in Sunnydale.”
</p><p>“And I'm glad. You would have been dust the second you touched her. Still rankles me to think about, damn it.”
</p><p>
“Got her off more times than you ever will, though.”
</p><p>
Angel immediately tenses, ready for the coming argument as his anger blossoms. Then it hits him. <i>He's trying to piss me off. He's trying to derail the conversation, the little shit.</i> He pushes his anger back down, waiting for the next time they dare to talk about Buffy, knowing it's a fight they'll eventually have to have anyway. It takes him almost a minute to answer, a minute in which Spike turns around to look at him. Angel can't meet those eyes, knowing the smirk will be falsely echoed in those intense blue eyes, knowing he'll lose his resolve and yell at him.
</p><p>In a tight voice, Angel pointedly says to him, “You are trying to get to me. Quit it and answer the damn question. What's got you brooding worse than you claim I do?”
</p><p>Spike's smirk disappears and once again the curtain lowers in those eyes Angel's been trying to avoid. <i>When did he get so good at masking his feelings? Or was he always that good and Angelus just never realized it? Why did it take me until the plane ride back to L.A. from England, back from not being able to save Fred, for me to realize it?</i>
</p><p>In a carefully even voice, Spike replies, “It's no one's business but my own, Liam. Please. I mean it. Stop asking.”</p><p>Angel just stares at him, actually meeting those eyes, trying to discern whether he really does mean it or is just being stubborn, not wanting to appear weak by talking about it. <i>Damned English and their damned repressed emotions.</i> Angel finally looks away, down at the concrete surface of the roof.</p><p>Quietly, “Fine. You want to talk, you know where to find me. In the meantime, I'll tell the others to leave you alone, okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I'm uh...I'll leave, now. Okay?”</p><p>Spike turns back around, once again hugging himself. “Yeah, okay.”</p><p>Angel shakes his head at Spikes back, running a hand over his face as he once again looks up at the sky. He gives his head one final shake, turns to leave and starts walking back to the roof access door.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>The words are barely above a whisper, Spikes voice unusually rough. Angel pauses, but doesn't turn around. He tries to think about the last time Spike ever thanked him and realizes the blond menace has only ever done it ironically, never really meaning it. This is genuine. It makes Angel a little uncomfortable, a little unsure what feeling it is those words trigger. It's deep down and intense and unfamiliar and he doesn't like it at all. It feels out of place when it comes to Spike. <i>Huh. Under my skin again, you brat. And you did it by being polite. What the actual hell is going on here?</i></p><p>“For what,” he asks, his voice equally quiet.</p><p>“For asking. For listening. For extending an olive branch. You know.....Brow Boy.”</p><p>Angel shifts his weight from one foot to the other in discomfort, suddenly feeling very confused as to why those words, even the insult, feel close, intimate, heartwarming.</p><p>“Oh. Well, um...you're welcome. I guess. Bye.” </p><p>Angel quickly spins around on his heel and heads back inside, closing the door swiftly behind him.</p><p>Spike finally lets his own confusion suffuse his face. <i>You, you moron. And me. And everything we just talked about. That's what's got me worked up in a dozen knots I just keep pullin' tighter, over thinkin' it. Don't wanna think. Wanna act, but haven't got a bloody clue what to do. Gotta follow my heart, my instincts, but they ain't working right now. My heart's as mixed up as my head. I don't like him. I don't. But...why would I care about him, why was I so worried in that damn cave? Can't care about someone you don't like, can you? And there's where I keep coming back to. Maybe we are friends now. And ain't that somethin'.</i></p><p>Without a thought, Spike lets out a long, low growl of frustration, a noise only a vampire can make. He starts pacing the roof, trying to let his legs absorb his emotional energy, his circular thinking going nonstop. He starts muttering to himself, his words getting louder as he goes.</p><p>“Stupid big stupid bloody cock, with your big swingy attitude, all 'I'm the boss and I'm the hero and I'm better than you, Spike.' Big forehead, big hair, big ego, everything all big, you fat bastard. Why the bloody hell am I startin' to like you? We can't be friends. Or can we? Ahhhhghh! Fuck I wish I could still hate you.”</p><p>Spike stops abruptly in his tracks, realization dawning on his face.</p><p>“Can't hate someone you don't care about. If you don't care, they're not that important to you. Angelus never hated me, he just found me annoying. Angel's the one who hated me. Which he don't anymore. And I don't hate him anymore, just don't like 'em. Don't have to like someone to care about 'em. Can be friends with someone you still bicker with. Look at Anya and Willow. Bickered all the time, but became thick as thieves by the end, even after Willow goin' all Big Bad on 'em. Right. Got it. I'm good as a goose. We're friends.”</p><p>Spike walks towards the door, ignoring the niggling voice in the back of his head telling him he's not quite in the clear, yet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Girl No Longer in Question</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They've got a few things to work out when it comes to a certain Slayer.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's of my firm opinion that a true Spangel relationship CANNOT happen until they work out their Buffy issues. This is my attempt at most of the resolution. Also, this is my first time writing Willow and she just sort of took over the beginning, adding to some good group dynamics. She's too much fun.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angel nods toward the side of the house. Spike follows his direction to go cover the backdoor and windows. Gunn and Illyria enter the front door. Neither of the vampires have been invited in, and with the owner in the hospital, his wife and daughter dead, they won't be getting an invitation. Neither of them is happy playing back up.</p><p>Angel hears Gunn's shout of pain and grimaces. A moment later Illyria carries him back out of the door, to his protests of not being an invalid. Angel can smell his blood, but not much. She places him on his feet next to Angel, but he immediately stumbles. Angel helps him sit on the grass.</p><p>“It began hurling knives. The human was caught on the arm, fell while dodging and hit his head on some useless decoration. He should not reenter or he will die.”</p><p>“Hey!” Gunn looks up Illyria with accusation on his face. As he opens his mouth to say more, she counters his argument preemptively. “It was not an insult but a statement of certainty. You are not operating at optimum health.”</p><p>Angel sees Gunn gearing up to argue with  her and interjects, “What about you?”</p><p>“I can deflect most of its blows and the thrown objects. I cannot move fast enough through time to corner the entity. It is slipping between mortal planes, not dimensions. The objects it manipulates are thrown at higher than normal speeds. It looks human. What is this called?”</p><p>“You can see it?”</p><p>“An outline of its presence when it is within this plane. It flashes quickly between. No human eye could track at such speeds. The outline is human shaped. Male.”</p><p>“Poltergeist.” </p><p>“Poltergeist. A ghost?”</p><p>“They're not always human spirits. This one sounds like it's got some magical abilities, probably the spirit of a dark sorcerer, or it could be a humanoid demon, not a spirit at all.”</p><p>“My readings led me to believe poltergeists are ghosts that can touch things?”</p><p>“If human yes, it's a ghost that can..how'd you put it? It manipulates material objects on this plane. It's still between planes like most ghosts, though. If it's a demon we can attempt to exorcise it from out here. If it's a ghost, we have to find the cause of the haunting and eliminate it so the spirit can either move on to its death dimension or become peaceful in this one.”</p><p>“Oi! Care to tell me why we're all back out here?” Spike rounds the corner of the house, cigarette in  hand.</p><p>Angel sighs in frustration. “Spike, you were supposed to cover the back.”</p><p>Gunn jumps in, “Can't blame bleach boy for getting bored. Action's inside.”</p><p>“Where you hit Charlie?”</p><p>“Head. I'm fine: a little dizzy. Feel stupid.”</p><p>Angel looks up at the sky peeking though the large oak tree on the lawn. “We can't finish here until we know what this is. We need to go get a spell book to do a discovery spell of some kind.”</p><p>Something on the street behind Angel catches Spike's attention. Illyria cocks her head to the side, obviously intrigued by something she senses. Just as Angel lowers his head, he hears a familiar voice.</p><p>“Or, you know, you could have a witch around who can do it for you.”</p><p>“Red! How'd you find us? What you doin' in L.A., pet?”</p><p>“You weren't at the hotel, so I did a quick location spell. Came to bring news you guys need to get in person. Need help, first?”</p><p>Angel whips around to gauge her expression. The last time Willow gave him news in person, it wasn't good. She's smiling wide this time, however, and gives him a little wave hello.</p><p>Gunn stands up slowly and turns around. “You're the witch that put his soul back, right? You any good with poltergeists? Got a bad one.”</p><p>“Oh, easy peasy. Usually. I'm a lot stronger than I used to be.”</p><p>“That even possible, love?”</p><p>“Learned a few things in other dimensions. How are you?”</p><p>Spike raises his foot to put his cigarette out on his boot bottom, lowering his head to hide his embarrassment at being asked about himself. “'M alright. You?”</p><p>“Broke up with Kennedy. Got a new girlfriend. Had another break up. Helped the new Slayer Organization take out the baddies. Voted to disban the Slayer Organization after a renegade slayer showed us what a bad idea it was. That was the first year, then, you know, a lot of other stuff in the next two years, including seeing you in Vegas. Sorry we didn't catch up then. Lately, it's mostly teasing Xander and Dawn on their relationship.”</p><p>“What?! I'll kill him.”</p><p>“Relax, Spike. She loves him. They're good together. Got together over a year and a half ago. Like I said, we never caught up in Las Vegas. They're cute.”</p><p>“He's a bloody pillock and she deserves better.”</p><p>Angel hold his arms out with his hands up, one towards Spike, the other towards Willow. “Can we do this later?” He's not going to try processing Xander being with Dawn right now. <i>Yuck.</i> “You said you could do a discovery spell for us?”</p><p>“I can sense it. It's strong, not human. No idea what it is. Lemme try something.”</p><p>Willow walks to the bottom of the house's porch steps and points both her hands, palms out, towards the door. She begins muttering in a language neither Spike, Angel nor Gunn recognize. Her hair raises slightly to the sides as a glow begins to emit from her head. Illyria raises her eyebrows, her curiosity at this powerful human rising.</p><p>“Your witch acquaintance is powerful. More powerful than almost any human I have yet to encounter. She is also speaking in a language only spoken in one other dimension, not one humans can enter easily. I am intrigued. Explain.”</p><p>“Wills absorbed a lot of dark magic, more than most could handle, had to be brought back from the dark side by Earth magic. She did a spell to make every potential slayer into an actual slayer and absorbed a bunch of light magic.”</p><p>“She always had the potential,” Angel says quietly. He's always been better than Spike at sensing magic.</p><p>There's a sudden burst of air, a static charge and Willow is thrown backward, catching herself midair and floating back onto her feet. Gunn lets out a low whistle. “That thing ain't messin' around.”</p><p>Willow shakes her head to clear it. “A Sanqu. They're not from this dimension: one of the worse hell dimensions. It's trapped between planes here, got pulled out and isn't happy.”</p><p>“I know this breed. They are one of the first of the half-breeds. Created by Cozrax, a rival I bested easily. They were banished from this world with many others of my kind.”</p><p>Willow looks over at Illyria. “You're an Old One, aren't you? The one that killed Fred. I liked her when we met.”</p><p>Illyria looks offended, but she has learned over the last few years that humans are not intentionally disrespectful of her greatness, merely ignorant or ill-informed. “I am Illyria. My kingdom was vast. Winifred Burkle's death was regretful. I was unaware of her importance to my current allies. Humans are no longer the insects they once were. They are still insignificant in comparison to my power, but they are not unimportant.” Angel, Spike and Gunn all roll their eyes in unison.</p><p>Angel looks back at Willow. “So, how do we send it back? Can we?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. I need to open a portal. It's going to take a few hours for me to gather the right magic. You'll have to perform a cleansing ritual once the portal is open. I'll give you the list of ingredients and the right words to say. Things have been quiet over in Scotland. This is fun!”</p><p>Gunn looks at Willow like she's insane. “Girl, you go in there and face a knife barrage.”</p><p>“Pish tosh, Charlie. You know you're not happy without gettin' stabbed at least once a week.” </p><p>Gunn throws a middle finger up at Spike at almost the same instant as Spike throwing a double finger up at him, both of them with wide smiles. Angel shakes his head and tries to suppress his own smile at their childishness. He answers for Gunn, “I think you're projecting, William.” Spike lets out a low chuckle, obviously more amused by Angel's retort than insulted. Willow looks between Angel and Spike, somewhat confused.</p><p>“When did you two start getting along,” she asks, genuinely curious. Gunn chokes a little and takes a step away, Illyria looking bemusedly at all of them.</p><p>“The half-breeds still argue, but it is facetious. They think we are unaware of their friendship.”</p><p>In unison, “We're not friends!”</p><p>Willow lets out a giggle. “Uh-huh. That's why you both just stopped yourselves from smiling at each other.”</p><p>“Look here, you,” Spike begins, pointing a finger at her, but this time Willow interrupts him.</p><p>“Look here, you! I really did bring news. Sooner we're done with this, sooner I can tell you guys, sooner I can go back to Buffy to help her with...nevermind. Just, get me some paper and a pen, okay Spike? Please.”</p><p>Spike lifts his eyebrow at her, still trying to get used to this newer, more confident Willow. He's also more than a little curious, now. <i>Help her with what? Definitely has somethin' to do with this “news” she's got. Maybe she needs our help, too. Not sure I'm ready to see Buffy again. I know she knows I'm alive. She didn't try contacting me. Took that as sign enough where we stand.</i></p><p>Angel surreptitiously looks at Spike, reading the casual attitude easily, knowing Spike's wondering as much as he is what exactly Willow has come to tell them. He turns around at the same time as Spike walks past him, both heading toward the car.</p><p>“Whatta you think she's on about?”</p><p>“I don't know. Paper is in the glovebox. Pens—”</p><p>“Are in the center console, yeah, I know. Don't need you babysittin' me gettin' Red her stuff.”</p><p>“Yes, you do. I leave you alone with my cars and they inevitably end up damaged.”</p><p>Spike rolls his eyes at Angel, opening the passenger door and digging out the pen and paper. Soon after, they have a list of supplies and a spell to speak. Willow sits cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed as she concentrates on absorbing magical energy. Soon, Illyria drives Gunn back to the Hyperion to get the supplies while Spike and Angel stand watch over Willow while she's in her trance.</p><p>“Maybe it's some monster she can't beat without us.”</p><p>“Come on, Spike. It's Buffy. She could beat any monster without us, especially with Willow and other Slayers on her side. I guess Xander's kind of okay in a fight, too.”</p><p>“He's alright. Lost his eye to the First.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah. Dawn probably thinks it makes him all roguish or somethin'. Still gonna kill 'em.”</p><p>“Since when are you so protective of Dawn?”</p><p>“Since close to the beginning, though I guess we didn't know it was the beginning, what with that spell that made her. She's like a lil sis to me.”</p><p>“Maybe they made her that way on purpose.”</p><p>“Well, for Buffy, sure. Rest of our memories were just a small bit o' that, I think.”</p><p>Angel shifts uncomfortably, knowing the truth is that he's technically never actually met Dawn and he's  unable to process Spike having yet another piece of Buffy's life that's been denied to him. It makes him hurt somewhere he's not ready to look at. It's not like Buffy is a huge part of either of their lives, anymore, for all they still seem to have something about her to settle between them. Angel's had love with Cordelia and a short-lived relationship with Nina since back then. Spike seems to stick to one-night stands these days, something Angel never would have thought him to like. Spike's always been a relationship kind of guy. </p><p>
  <i>Even Spike needs to not be lonely. Especially Spike. I went a long time before Buffy without anyone. Spike's always found someone, even if it's just been a substitute for who he really wants, like with Harmony. Is that what he's doing these days with finding some girl at a bar every couple of weeks? Is there some other woman he hasn't told us about? Why the hell does that bother me? Well, because that's not the Spike I know, that's why. He wants romance and using women like that doesn't fit with who he is with the soul. Right? He used Harmony as soon as he was solid. But, he also went half a year without touch of any kind. And, the soul is still new to him. He's still changing.</i>
</p><p>Willow seems to come out of her trance just as the car pulls up, Gunn in the driver's seat this time. Angel shakes his thoughts away, only glancing at Spike for a second, noticing he's looking at him with concern.</p><p>It's not who they are to ask each other what's wrong, though. <i>Look how that went last time.</i> It's been about four months since their discussion on the roof and they really do seem to be getting along much better, but there's still uncomfortable moments: times when neither of them seem able to reconcile what exactly they are to each other. <i>Friends seems to fit. Not that I'll ever admit that to anyone, let alone the blond menace. Looks like he doesn't want to, either. Makes it easier to handle, that kind of major shift between us, knowing neither of us wants to admit it.</i> Angel shakes his head again, opening the back door to get out the candles and other ingredients. They have a spell to do; he can think later.</p><p>***</p><p>“Well, that was just a load of laughs. What you got for us next, Red, a holy water bath?”</p><p>“Sorry. I didn't know it would try to cleanse you, Angel and Illyria, too. Forgot you're demons.”</p><p>They're all exiting the El Camino, walking toward the hotel, Angel and Spike smelling slightly burnt, Illyria being carried in Gunn's arms, unconscious.</p><p>“How do you forget the vampboys are vampboys,” Gunn asks incredulously.</p><p>“Well, I didn't say that. I just kind of have a box for Angel and Spike marked 'okay vampires' in my head.”</p><p>“That...you're whack, woman.”</p><p>“Hey! I cast a blocking spell while opening the portal. You have no idea how hard of a multi-task that is for a witch. They're okay.”</p><p>“I think I lost a patch of hair. I can't even look in the mirror and check.”</p><p>Angel's sudden tangent as he's rubbing the back of his head turns all three of their heads, looking at him like he's grown a second one. Gunn's the first to say something.</p><p>“Seriously, dude?”</p><p>“Yeah, oh Great and Mighty Brow. We almost dust and you're worried about your hair?”</p><p>“You know, I think some of the peroxide came out of yours. I think I see bits of dark blond.”</p><p>“What!?” Spike's hands come to his head before he has time to process Angel's comment, the older vampire smirking at him.</p><p>“Spike's a dark blond?” Willow is looking over at Spike, now.</p><p>“More like a blondish-brown,” Spike says, then turns to Angel, saying pointedly, “and peroxide takes out color, you ninny.”</p><p>“I know.” Angel's smile grows just a little more. Spike's eyes scrunch up at him, trying for a glare, but Angel can see he's amused. Willow looks between them, again, and smiles herself.</p><p>“Yup. You're friends now.”</p><p>Spike and Angel both twirl on her as Gunn starts laughing, sitting next to Illyria where he placed her on the lobby round couch. The noise makes Illyria start to stir. She sits up slowly, a hand to her head.</p><p>“You are fortunate, witch, that I no longer kill humans on a whim.” She stands up with as much dignity as she can muster and goes to the stairs, looking pointedly back at Gunn, “As my pet is preoccupied, you will escort me to my rooms. I will not be so debased as to fall down the stairs.”</p><p>As Illyria and Gunn ascend the stairs, Willow looks over at Spike and Angel, now standing next to each other near the front desk and asks, “Pet?”</p><p>Spike coughs slightly and reaches in his duster pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Angel smirks again.</p><p>“Spike. I assigned him the task of testing her powers back at Wolfram &amp; Hart. She took it in her head that I had gifted her with a pet.”</p><p>Willow puts a hand to her mouth, not quite able to entirely stifle her laugh.</p><p>“At least she likes me,” Spike grits out, embarrassment evident in his voice, before he redirects the conversation, putting the cigarettes back away without lighting one up. “So what's this news sent you teleporting across the pond to us?”</p><p>Willow blushes a little. She reaches in her bag and pulls out two card-sized white envelopes, each sealed with a gold sticker. “Uhm, well...Buffy...she uhm, has been dating this guy, Ewan, for about the last year. He lives in a village near the castle. He's really great, knows about her being a Slayer, is perfectly okay with her having to go battle demons a lot, and he's really cute and kind and...” Willow stops herself quickly from descending into a full babble. She clears her throat and walks over to the counter, placing the envelopes on it and then walks back across the lobby. She looks at both of them steadily once they stop looking at the envelopes on the counter, not touching them. “They're getting married in three months. Those are your invitations. You're both still really important to her, big pieces of her past. She insisted on an evening ceremony. She wants you both to come, but she understands if you don't want to.”</p><p>Both vampires look back down at the counter. Neither one is moving a bit, otherwise. Willow clears her throat, obviously lost how to respond to their silence. “Right, well. There's lots of plans to finish. I've been helping her a lot. We're going to Milan to find a dress tomorrow...which is today, over in Scotland. I'll, uhm, I'll be going now. You guys take care. It was good to see you and have a little fun battling a demon, too. I, uhm...bye.”  Neither one of them moves as Willow teleports herself out of the lobby.</p><p>Spike is the first one to react. He picks up the envelope with his name on it and walks over to the couch, sitting with a thump, holding the envelope in front of him, staring at it. Angel turns around, puts both hands on the counter and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He's the first one to speak.</p><p>“Are you going to go,” he asks quietly. Spike remains silent. Angel turns back around. Spike is still staring at the envelope. Angel knows he's had more time to prepare for this eventuality, but he's still a little shell-shocked, so he can't even imagine what Spike's feeling. For once.</p><p>“Spike?”</p><p>Angel's speaking his name seems to hit Spike the same as his name written in Buffy's large, curly cursive letters on the envelope: like a punch in the gut. <i>Who the hell are you to ask me if I'm going? Who the hell are you to ask me a bloody damn thing right now?</i>  “Shut up,” he growls. </p><p>Angel tries his best not to take offense and be understanding, but it feels as if Spike's purposefully letting his anger out at him. He tries again, knowing Spike probably needs to talk, even if he's not the best one for him to talk to. <i>Hell, I need to talk, and I'm actually feeling a little okay with this. A little.</i> He walks over toward the couch, but doesn't sit down, just stands in front of the younger vampire.</p><p>“Look, Spi--” and that's as far as he gets before Spike's fist connects with his jaw, a swift uppercut he didn't even see coming as the other vampire stood. His disorientation lasts a second, long enough for Spike to swing again, a left cross, but Angel has warning now and catches his fist, tossing him backward onto the couch. Spike bounces back and tries pushing Angel, maneuvering for space. Angel brings his arms up to stop Spike's double handed attack, but isn't expecting the strength behind it and is pushed backwards a bit. He abruptly jumps over Spike to land atop the center back of the couch, hoping for time before Spike comes at him again.</p><p>As Spike spins, he shouts to him, “I'm not the bad guy here, Spike! Quit it!”</p><p>Spike stops and looks at him in disbelief, arms at his sides, fists tight.</p><p>“You're not? You just find out the supposed love of you life is getting married to some Scottish tosser and all you can do is ask me if I'm going?!”</p><p>“That's not all I'm doing! I just thought--”</p><p>“Thought what? That because it's just me, it's okay to pretend my feelings don't mean a damn when it comes to the girl?” Without waiting for an answer, Spike jumps up on the seat, grabbing Angel around his calves, tumbling them both to the other side of the couch. They keep rolling sideways, trading punches, mostly Spike's punches and Angel's blocks. Angel comes out on top and manages to pin Spike's hands to the floor for a moment. Angel's own anger is starting to come out, now.</p><p>“Never said they don't matter to you. Maybe they just don't matter to her.”</p><p>“You buggering son of a bitch,” Spike thrusts his hips and thighs up, unseating Angel. They both bounce upright once more and Spike tries to spin kick Angel's legs out from under him. Angel jumps and avoids the tactic and as he comes down moves his bent right arm out, trying to elbow Spike in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Spike catches his arm and tosses him back, breaking the table by the counter as Angel hits it. Angel grabs the broken leg and throws it, hitting Spike square in the forehead. Spike staggers back, then shifts, ridges popping out to fix the injury to his head. With a snarl, fangs drawn, he rushes Angel again. Angel shifts in kind, meets him blow for blow.</p><p>As they move around the lobby, creating a mess of broken furniture, thoughts are moving speedily through Angel's head. He winces when he thinks about what he just said, knowing he's gone too far with that one. <i>Spike's too caught up in his pain and rage to think past it and I made it worse.</i> Finally, Angel is in a position to reach over the counter, grab a large bronze charm, something Cordelia used as a paperweight. He speaks one word: “Still.” Spike drops his arms and stands still. The look on Spike's face is one of total outrage.</p><p>“You twat. Can't win fair, so you had to magic it?”</p><p>“Not that I couldn't beat you to a pulp, but we need to talk and you're not going to unless you stop fighting.”</p><p>“Don't need to talk. Need to turn your self-righteous, swanky, too goody-goody, over-gelled, overweight arse to dust.”</p><p>“Vampires who live in peroxide gelled domes shouldn't throw stones. Now, are you going to listen to me?”</p><p>“Do I have a choice?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Spike growls at Angel, but shifts back to his human face. Angel does likewise.</p><p>“I'm not entirely okay with her getting married, okay? Part of me still wants to believe the Shanshu is real and I might be able to be with her some day. But, obviously, that's not going to happen. The Powers That Be turned out to be nowhere when we needed them. They just used that prophecy to string me along, bait dangled like a carrot to train me to do their tricks.”</p><p>“So you ain't going. Why would you ask me that?”</p><p>“Didn't say I wasn't going. I don't know yet. We've got time to decide. I didn't know what else to say. I was trying to get you to talk, to see where you stood with this. Obviously, I picked the wrong way to do that.”</p><p>“Obviously. And telling me I didn't matter to her?”</p><p>“I don't know that you did. I said it to hurt you, yeah, but it's got a chance of being the truth, damn it.”</p><p>All Spike's rage drains in one sudden burst, leaving him with nothing but hurt. Spike can feel movement returning and looks down, then looks up again. Angel draws a sharp breath at the pain there.</p><p>“Just need you to admit it, just one time, just one bleeding time. That last year in Sunnydale, it meant something. Held her all night, no sex, just held her, 'cause it's what she asked me to do. Best bloody night of my whole life. She told me she loved me, at the end, down in the Hellmouth. I don't know if she meant it. And now I'll never know.”</p><p>“She told you she loved you?” <i>Why didn't he ever tell me that? Every time we've argued, just barely managing to keep our cool when it comes to her and he never said a damn thing. What the fuck is wrong with him?</i></p><p>“Yeah. What, don't believe me, do you? Typical, you wanker.”</p><p>“I asked her if she did. Outside the pyramid. I smelled you there. Smelled you all over her, too. She told me you were in her heart. I don't think Buffy could ever tell someone she loves them without meaning it. You had to have known her well enough by the end to know that.”</p><p>“You saying you think she meant it?”</p><p>Angel looks to the side, then down, unsure of what to say. Part of him wants to say yes, but part of him isn't willing to share that part of Buffy with Spike. To think that Spike has all these little bits of her that he will never have makes Angel almost unbearably jealous. Spike always seemed to have something Angel didn't and it's always made Angel want to be better than him. Something about Spike has always sparked that insecurity, even when he was Angelus. <i>Needed to use Dru in front of him just to prove that the little shit was no better than any other vampire.</i></p><p>“I'm saying...you meant something to her. Something special. Yes, what you two had, after you got the soul, was an actual relationship, okay? I'm finally in a place where I can admit that. Don't push me to admit more, Spike, or I'll overstep the line and want to hurt you again.”</p><p>Spike has nothing to say to that. He quietly harrumphs and goes to sit back down on the round couch. The invitation, somehow, is still on the cushion. Spike picks it up and looks down at it again, contemplative this time. Angel looks around and sees his on the floor near the broken table. He picks it up and sits down next to Spike.</p><p>“Didn't we once say we needed to move on?”</p><p>“Yeah. Don't make it easier.”</p><p>“You damn near broke my nose, you know.”</p><p>“You broke my bloody forearm. Again.”</p><p>“Need it set?”</p><p>“Nah. Can already feel it knitting up.”</p><p>“So, are you going to go?”</p><p>“I ain't got a clue. Don't really wanna. She wants us there, though. That's....that's a hard thing to ignore.”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“You know what I need?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Booze. A lot of booze.”</p><p>“There's a bar in the ballroom. We can check and see if it's still stocked.”</p><p>“There's a ballroom?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Things NOT to do When Drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Wasn't there...oh. Wow. Oh wow. I remember now.”</p>
<p>Spike looks at Angel with hooded eyes, knowing exactly what Angel remembers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, yeah. I have no idea if this is any good. This is my second sex scene ever and my first for this pairing. Feedback would be very appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's nearly noon when they start to run out of bottles. <em>Who knew the Hyperion's old ballroom bar had been stocked so fully when the place shut down? Good thing, too. Didn't realize how much I needed to get loaded right now</em>. How it hadn't been raided in the intervening years before Angel took the place back from the paranoia demon, he can't begin to figure out. Especially not when he is this drunk. He looks down and sees where Spike has thrown his duster over the bar. Spike spins his stool suddenly, tries to rise from his seat and stumbles a little, definitely looking like he's about to keel over. Angel's dulled reflexes barely kick-in in time to reach out an arm to catch him around the middle before the blond goes down and he's nearly knocked off his own seat by the runt. He slowly rises to his own feet, keeping his arm firmly around Spike's waist. He's facing the bar and Spike's facing the ballroom. It feels odd.</p>
<p>“Where you goin?”</p>
<p>“Room. Got more booze there.”</p>
<p>“I think....I think we've had more'n enough.”</p>
<p>“Nah. I can still...uhm...” Spike's finding it hard to concentrate, as if all his senses have suddenly focused on where Angel's arm is around his waist, that big hand on his side. “What was I...oh, yeah, I can still down another gallon or two've vodka.”</p>
<p>“Jesus. How much liquor do you keep in your room?”</p>
<p>“Too much and never enough. C'mon. Lessgo.”</p>
<p>“Spike.”</p>
<p>“Oh, c'mon Angel. You use ta drink whole whine cellars.”</p>
<p>“I use ta drink whole villages o' people. Things change, Will'm.”</p>
<p>“Heh. C'mon. We can be drunk and not be evil. Ain't that hard.” <em>Don't say no. Don't make me go back there alone. Need ta drink til I pass out. Only way to get over today. Can't do it alone</em>. He looks up at Angel, letting every ounce of desperation show on his face, too drunk for subterfuge. It about kills the brunet to see it.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright.”</p>
<p>They slowly stumble themselves back towards the hotel's living areas, holding each other up most of the way. By the time they make it up the stairs to the third floor where Spike's room is, they're both a tiny bit steadier on their feet, but only a tiny bit.</p>
<p>Spike swings his door open and practically throws himself into the room, grabbing the chair next to the bed and slumping into it, legs spread wide. Angel follows him in, overly cautious to not slam the door. Spike bends over and drags two large bottles of vodka from under his bed just as Angel is sitting down on his side near the foot of it. Angel feels off balance this far from the floor, so he slides off the mattress onto said floor, ass hitting hard, knees bent up.</p>
<p>“Damn. I thought you were joking. Tell me you don't drink one of those a night? Gonna have to sign you up for vampire AA.”</p>
<p>“Har bloody har. It's my stash. Use ta go through this much in Sunnydale. Still drink a couple beers every night, but vodka's just on occ..occass'n. Jus' got it here in case o' dire events. Tell me this don't quali...qualify.”</p>
<p>“You know, it's what we both said she should have.” Angel winces, remembering they'd promised not to mention Buffy again today.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know. Does not mean I gotta be happy. I mean...wait...I should be happy for her, sh'dn't I?”</p>
<p>“Well...we both loved her. We should be happy she's happy. Even if it is with some stupid Scotsman. Lord. Did I say that? Gimme one of those bottles.”</p>
<p>“Loved? Don't still?”</p>
<p>“Do. Just...look, I dealt with shit with Darla in between, had Connor, then fell in love with Cordy. I've had space, time. She's always going to be special, but we both gotta just, you know, move on.”</p>
<p>“I'm gettin' deja vu. We said this once, didn't we?”</p>
<p>“Twice. Right after Italy and again downstairs.”</p>
<p>“<strong>I</strong> still love her. Always will. Jus' ya know...I know we're not meant to be. Like me an' Dru. I still love the looner, but I don't ever wanna be with her again. Ain't meant to be.”</p>
<p>Angel looks up at Spike like he's seeing him for the first time. “That's...that's actually really mature. Who are you and what'd you do with Spike?” As he says this, he leans forward and up on his knees, shuffles to Spike, reaching out to take the bottles hanging limply from his hands, and sets them to the side. Spike jerks a little and his foot comes in, presses against Angel's leg. He leaves it there. Angel moves slightly closer still, almost between Spikes knees. He's not sure why. <em>My body has developed a mind of its own.</em> He chuckles to himself and Spike quirks an eyebrow at him.</p>
<p>“Care ta share the joke, big guy?”</p>
<p>“Nothin'. Do you remember the last time we were this drunk together?”</p>
<p>Spike startles a little, ducks his head down before answering. “The port master's wine cellar, Lisbon.”</p>
<p>“What was it, 1891, or was that Russia?”</p>
<p>Angel leans forward, puts his elbows on Spike's knees, cradling his own head in his hands, in a position now to look up at Spike. Spike lifts his arms from dangling over the armrests to actually resting on them.</p>
<p>“The girls were in Greece,” Spike says, wondering if Angel's actually going to bring it up.</p>
<p>“That's right. You were going to cut your hair the night before and I told you I'd be damned if I let you, because Dru would whine about it for decades.”</p>
<p>“We killed the port master two days earlier and his servants had finally left the villa. We decided to hole up in the house, the sun bein' up, then we found the wine cellar.”</p>
<p>Angel scrunches up his eyebrows, a look of confusion crossing his face as he tries to remember what important detail comes next. <em>Wasn't there something that happened?</em></p>
<p>“Wasn't there...oh. Wow. Oh wow. I remember now.”</p>
<p>Spike looks at Angel with hooded eyes, knowing exactly what Angel remembers. <em>Well, well. Thought you had a photographic memory. Guess being drunk clouds it. Huh.</em></p>
<p>Angel is frozen, unable to take his eyes off Spike's face, trying to read his expression, damn near desperate to be able to see those blue eyes. His hands come down to rest on Spike's thighs and he leans even closer.</p>
<p>“Do you remember?”</p>
<p>Spike inhales slowly, trying to gauge Angel's arousal by smell, afraid to move and break the spell. “Always have. Figured you always did, what wi' that memory o' yours. Figured you jus' never wanted to talk about it.”</p>
<p>“Did I start it or did you?”</p>
<p>“Does it matter?”</p>
<p>Angel slowly shakes his head, both to clear it and to answer Spike's question. <em>No wonder poof is one of his favorite insults. Holy hell.</em></p>
<p>He and Spike stay this way until Spike decides to open his eyes a little wider, meet Angel's gaze a little more fully. Angel starts to say something, but Spike cuts him off, “In the past, yeah? Can't undo it.”</p>
<p><em>What? Where'd that come from?</em> “Who said I want to? Hell, I just remembered it.” The words even surprise Angel and he and Spike both drop their eyes. Problem is, now they're both staring at Angel's hands on Spike's thighs, which makes the closeness of their bodies hit them both like a brick. Angel feels slightly more sober than he did five minutes ago, but that doesn't mean he's thinking straight. Spike is in the same boat.</p>
<p>“Look, Angel--” Spike's cut off abruptly as Angel raises a hand to his chin, pushing his face up to look at him. The smolder in those brown eyes is staggering and any point Spike was about to make is banished. Angel's other hand is still on Spike's thigh and the younger vampire is acutely aware of the pressure there, right near the building pressure in his cock. Spike's still trying to remember what it is he wanted to say when Angel closes the distance and kisses him. Spike's too shocked to respond at first, but Angel's lips are insistent and any resistance Spike has left vanishes as he starts to kiss him back. It's sloppy and a little awkward, both their senses dulled a bit with alcohol, but it still feels good, so they both keep going, despite the alarm bells clanging in their heads.</p>
<p>Spike's hands rise to Angel's face, one slipping around the back of the older man's head to bury in the hair there. He pulls unintentionally and Angel gasps, lips opening against Spike's mouth, kind of resting there. His hand squeezes Spike's thigh, his other one moving to the back of Spike's head. <em>Bloody hell, that's hot</em>. Spike tugs again, on purpose this time, too clumsy with drink to not pull just a little too hard. Angel doesn't seem to mind, as this time it's not a gasp but a soft sound, full of longing. Angel can feel his own cock stirring, semi-hard.</p>
<p>Spike slips his tongue out to run along Angel's bottom lip and Angel's tongue responds in kind, licking a soft trail over Spike's upper lip. It's not long before they're both shoving inside the other's mouth, swirling around each other in an alcohol laden dance. Angel swears he could get even more drunk just off the liquor in Spike's saliva. When Spike lowers his hands to the front of the chair, grips the seat and starts to pull away, Angel doesn't want to let him.</p>
<p>Between sucking kisses, Spike gets out, “Jus..jus gimme a sec to get down there with you, yeah?” Angel finally releases his tight hold on Spike's head, not quite letting go all the way, slides his hand down the younger man's thigh to his knee and backs up a little to give Spike room to maneuver onto the floor. As Spike slides forward, Angel's hand slides back up his thigh, over to his hip and up his side, gripping him just a touch too tightly, other hand on the back of his neck. Just as Spike's knees hit the floor, their heads accidentally bump each other in the tight space and they both grunt in frustration at the same time. Spike looks at Angel and they both break out in goofy grins, fully aware of their drunken clumsiness.</p>
<p>“Well, come 'ere then.”</p>
<p>Angel doesn't need further invitation and he swoops his head down, once again devouring Spike's mouth, uses his grip on Spike's side to pull him to his body. As soon as they're pressed together, both Spike's hands come up to tangle once more in Angel's hair. Angel's free hand moves from Spike's neck to his shoulders, feeling the muscles there. He slides that hand between them and starts rubbing at Spike's chest, trying to feel him through his t-shirt. Spike instinctively juts his hips forward and they both let out low moans as their hard-ons meet each other.</p>
<p>Spike is suddenly aware of how tight his clothing is. His jeans are tight as a rule, but he's never minded it before. He's never had his stiff cock in those jeans pressed against another equally stiff cock like this, though, and the zipper pushing against his dick is too uncomfortable to ignore. He brings his lower body back a little, releasing his firm hold on Angel's hair to move a hand between their bodies. The back of his hand brushes against Angel's cock as he adjusts his own, and Angel stiffens, pulls back a little and looks down. His hand releases Spike's side, where he's left bruises Spike's sure, and reaches down between them, tentatively grasping Spike's hand in his own, pulling it until it's in full contact with Angel's dick. Spike is also looking down, now, fascinated. <em>Who'd've thought? I actually want his cock in my hand.</em></p>
<p>Spike turns his wrist and uses the heel of his hand to apply pressure to which Angel curses and jerks his hips towards him. <em>Where'd he learn to do that?</em> Angel stops himself before that train of thought derails the moment, not an easy task in his state. He lets go of Spike's hand and lets the younger man test holding his dick through his pants, tentatively squeezing and sliding a bit, making Angel once again curse. He brings both his hands back to Spike's face, tilting it back up to look him in the eyes again and can't believe how blue they are, pupils dark and dilated. <em>How have I always been able to ignore those eyes?</em></p>
<p>Spike doesn't let go of Angel, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other on the front of the bigger man's trousers. He leans his head forward, tilted slightly up as it is, and Angel meets him halfway. His tongue runs along the roof of Spike's mouth, feels the bumps where his fangs descend. Spike moans, his control of his responses diminished. He once again squeezes Angel's cock, and this time Angel moans into Spike's mouth. Without stopping to think, Spike drops his other hand from Angel's hair to his chest, rubs down to his stomach, tugs at Angel's shirt to loosen it from his pants. Angel lets go of Spike's face to help him, and together, with a couple of clumsy pulls, they manage to loosen the shirt.</p>
<p>As soon as it's over his head and arms, Angel's hands are back on Spike's face, his lips back on Spike's mouth, stuck to a treasure he doesn't want to surrender. Spike, meanwhile, is once again tugging on Angel's shirt, his undershirt this time. He slips forward a little, his knee not quite steady, and one of Angel's hands go to Spike's chest to correct the stumble. He rubs down Spike's chest and stomach as Spike did to him and begins to tug on Spike's shirt. It's tighter than Angel's was.</p>
<p>Spike releases his hold on Angel's cock to begin fumbling with his own belt. “Bollocks,” he mutters in frustration, having to also let go of Angel's chest, needing to use both hands to undo the buckle. Angel doesn't hesitate to use the moment to tug his t-shirt over his head, almost falling backwards as he does. Spike, done releasing his buckle, notices and pushes on Angel's chest, sending the older man sprawling onto the floor with a grunt, knees bent upward.</p>
<p><em>Hey! Wha-</em>- Before Angel can finish his thought, Spike climbs over Angel's knees and straddles Angel's stomach, down on his own knees. He leans onto all fours to kiss him again, hands either side of Angel's head. <em>Oh. That's good</em>. Angel whimpers. He can't help it. His hands come up and he tugs at Spike's shirt again. Somehow this causes him to lose those lips once more, but it's only for Spike to rise to his knees and lift off his own black t-shirt, tossing it over his shoulders. <em>Really defined shoulders. And chest. And stomach.</em> As Angel is taking a moment to soak in Spike's lithe musculature, Spike is taking a moment to lift each foot slightly off the ground to tug on his bootlaces, trying in vain to loosen them without moving away from Angel.</p>
<p>Angel sits up, forcing Spike's cock into touch with his lap, across his hips where his own cock is hard. Their bare stomachs and chests also come in to contact. It's Spike's turn to whimper, equally unable to suppress the sound. Angel pulls Spike's legs forward until the blond, through his alcohol and lust fueled haze, realizes what he's doing, leans back onto Angel's thighs and lets the bigger man bring his knees up, then straightens his back again, both legs now bent on either side of Angel's chest, feet flat on the floor. Angel reclaims his mouth as they both work on his laces. Spike knows when they're loose enough, so he brings one leg to cross around Angel's back at a time, yanking of each boot, but leaving his legs put around Angel.</p>
<p>Angel moves his hands to Spike's jeans, fumbling to undo the button, something he'd normally be able to do one-handed. One hand then moves up to caress Spike's chest, the other down, to press against Spike's cock. Spike sucks in a breath between his teeth and Angel's not sure if that's a good or bad sound. He leans back a little to look at Spike's face only to find the younger man has closed his eyes, a look of consternation there.</p>
<p>“Bad,” Angel asks huskily.</p>
<p>“Zipper,” Spike answers, his voice barely above a whisper, tense and full of want.</p>
<p>“Oh. One way to fix that.”</p>
<p>Angel tugs Spike's zipper down and pulls out Spike's cock, for a second not thinking about his hands on another man's goods, until he realizes <em>I'm holding Spike's dick in my hand.</em> Spike, for his part, has frozen, hands gripping Angel's shoulders, eyes still closed, look now the opposite of consternation. Angel takes another second to process, then looks down, sees his fingers and palm loosely circling the shaft, notices Spike's gotten so hard that the foreskin has started to pull back on its own, and tightens his grip fractionally, moving up until his thumb and forefinger can close around the head, the foreskin sliding up with his hand.</p>
<p>“Holy fucking hell. Angel. Oh god.”</p>
<p>Spike still hasn't opened his eyes, is actually squeezing them tighter when Angel looks at him. He's never heard that tone from Spike. Not even all the times back when he was Angelus, listening to Spike fuck Drusilla. It's this odd mixture of ecstasy and disbelief. Angel remembers enough of what happened in Lisbon, now, to know this isn't that. It had been quick and rough, then, both of them trying to top, but, like always, Angelus had dominated Spike. They'd both cursed at each other after, and Spike had gotten himself off, Angelus not caring whether or not Drusilla's progeny had his end away, just so long as Angelus got his.</p>
<p>He slides his hand back down and Spike gasps, his eyelids beginning to flutter, as if he wants to open them and can't make himself stop, entirely. Angel moves his other hand up from where it's been rubbing Spike's nipple, puts it on Spike's cheek. The other man leans his head into it like a cat and finally opens his eyes, looking at Angel with hazy vision. A small smile appears and there's the eyebrow quirking up. Angel gives him a small smile of his own, moves to put Spike's hand from his shoulder down to the front of his trousers.</p>
<p>Spike takes the hint and moves both hands down, releases Angel's button and unzips him. He lifts Angel out, taking him in hand the same way Angel has him. He slides up and down, one fluid motion, squeezing just a tad tighter as he reaches the head than Angel had done, forcing out a bit of precum to slide back down the shaft. It's Angel's turn to close his eyes. He moans loudly, but he doesn't have words for this feeling. Angel forces his eyes open and looks back at Spike, sees that he's looking down at Angel's cock in his hand, his cock in Angel's hand. Angel leans forward until their foreheads are touching and starts to move his hand as Spike did, doing the same to use precum as lubricant. Spike, again, picks up the hint quickly and begins to move his hand. Both of them are stuttering their pulls, unable to keep an even pace while the other man's hands are upon them. They're both breathing, short fast breaths, the occasional moan or grunt escaping their lips.</p>
<p>Spike finally can't take looking anymore and pushes his head further against Angel, forcing their mouths together again, his hand gripping Angel's side as hard as Angel had gripped him earlier. Angel can barely take the motion of Spike's hand, but when the punk's tongue begins to move in and out of his mouth, matching the up and down of his hand, he's undone and starts thrusting up into Spike's hand. Spike lets out a low sound, almost, but not quite, a growl and begins to thrust into Angel's hand as well. <em>Oh fuck, oh fuck, please Spike, don't stop</em>. On one particularly hard motion, Angel's control, weakened by alcohol, slips entirely and he shudders his release, gripping Spike's dick hard in his hand.</p>
<p>Spike whimpers and breaks the kiss, looks down at his hand covered in Angel's come, still moving to milk the last of it. As Angel floats back down to Earth, he swiftly discerns the unevenness in Spike's continued breathing. <em>Damn it, Angel. You're never that selfish to a lover</em>. Angel looks down as well and sees where Spike's hand has now stopped. He moves his other hand down and wipes come off his stomach, off Spike's hand, and transfers it over to Spike's cock, Angel's other hand. Spike gasps, knowing Angel's intent and then jerks up into Angel's hand as he begins to strip his dick. Angel's hand gives a slight twist at the end, specially designed to focus the pleasure in the cockhead, before he pushes back down, lingering just a moment on the drawn back foreskin to hit the nerves there. Spike begins moving his hips to the steady rhythm of Angel's hand, the lubrication of come making it easier than before, with just the right amount of friction. It doesn't take long before he's giving in to his own rapture and comes, spurting out again and again as Angel continues to stroke him. He finally shudders and relaxes, Angel's hand slowing to guide him down like a feather.</p>
<p>They both lean forward again, heads touching, eyes on each other's hands and no longer turgid cocks. Spike notices he's slightly bigger than Angel when they're semi-hard and decides to store that information away in case he ever gets a chance to needle Angel over it. Angel takes a huge breath, brings both his hands down to cradle Spike's ass and lifts him enough that they both lose balance and tumble to the floor, laughing uncontrollably.</p>
<p>“That did not go as planned.”</p>
<p>“What did you plan, oh great one? A rousing game of pat the bottom?” Spike breaks off into another fit of laughter.</p>
<p>Angel looks at him and has to seriously resist becoming equally juvenile by sticking out his tongue at the brat. “No, you idiot. I wanted to get us up on the bed.”</p>
<p>“Could have just said something. Wanker. Wait. That now has a new meaning for you.” Spike once again starts to laugh.</p>
<p>“Oh, look who's talking. Come here,” Angel says and yanks Spike to his side.</p>
<p>He kicks his own shoes off and takes stock. They both still have socks and trousers on. <em>That needs remedying</em>. Angel sits and then stands, almost tumbling over again, then puts his hand down to help Spike up. Spike is equally unsteady on his feet. They're still drunk. The bigger man sits on the bed and reaches over to loosen Spike's belt, shoving down those threadbare black jeans. Spike puts one hand on Angel's shoulder to lift one foot then the other out of his jeans, pulling his socks off with them. Angel is hyper aware of how close his mouth is to Spike's cock, but decides to lie back, legs hanging off the bed, shoving his own pants down. He feels dizzy and the beginning of a headache. The last time he had a hangover hit before he was even done being buzzed, he'd been Liam laying in his father's back garden. <em>Huh. Weird place for my thoughts to travel right now. Everything's a little weird right now.</em></p>
<p>Spike bends down to pull Angel's pants and socks off from his ankles and falls backward on his butt. He almost starts in on another fit of drunken giggles, but manages to contain it to a snicker. He leans forward and pulls himself up by the bed, then promptly turns around to flop down next to Angel, both their legs still dangling from the side of the bed.</p>
<p>“Muh head's startin' to hurt already” Spike mumbles.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Same here. Dizzy.”</p>
<p>“Room's spinning.”</p>
<p>“Tipping and dipping.”</p>
<p>“Rather do that to you.”</p>
<p>“Hah. Look at me, would you?”</p>
<p>Spike glances over at Angel and sees those brown eyes staring at him, trying to solve some mystery.</p>
<p>“Wut?”</p>
<p>Without preamble, Angel rolls onto his side, raising himself on his elbow before bending over to kiss Spike again. The bleached menace responds without hesitation this time, his lips as swollen as Angel's from their earlier kisses, firm yet pliable, pushing and retreating in his turn. Angel pulls back slightly.</p>
<p>“Thought so.”</p>
<p>“Wut?”</p>
<p>“You kiss too good. No other explanation.”</p>
<p>Spike scrunches up his eyebrows, thrilled at the compliment, but totally lost on the thread. “Care to explain?”</p>
<p>“Not on your unlife.”</p>
<p>Spike rolls his eyes, grabs Angel by the back of his head and pulls him down into another kiss, completely dominating it this time. He won't give Angel a chance to slip his tongue into his mouth, too busy forcing his own tongue into every small, heady spot of Angel's mouth, especially focusing on those oh so sensitive fang buds. Angel starts to moan again and rolls onto Spike, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head, fingers entwined. Angel is straddling Spike this time and brings his knees up to give himself more leverage, which makes Spike bring his knees up, placing his feet flat on the mattress, his thighs against Angel's bare ass. He shoves with his feet, bringing both of them more fully onto the bed. Angel's cock, hanging down on Spike's, starts to swell again. Spike's perks up at the contact.</p>
<p>They both move around a little so they're no longer sideways on the bed, but closer to lying on it properly. Angel has to let go of Spike's hands, but refuses to relinquish his mouth. Now they're straight on the bed, he grabs those hands again, once more lacing their fingers together as he holds them down on the pillow. Spike doesn't mind the constraint, happy to let Angel dominate his hands as long as he gets to dominate Angel's mouth. Angel lets go of one hand to reach between them and line their cocks up, then lowers himself down enough that there's just enough room between their bodies for each other's hairs to provide cushion. He starts to shove, hips moving just the right way to let their cocks rub against each other, plump heads bumping. Their lip lock still hasn't ended.</p>
<p>Spike responds, his own hips moving to meet Angel's on each forward thrust. Soon, they establish a beat, tongues, lips, cocks, hips all meeting in carefully choreographed time. Angel has one hand on the mattress, one hand still secured to Spike's. Spike's other hand has moved down, shoved between their bodies to hold their cocks more tightly together. He's not moving his hand, but letting their combined pumping provide the needed friction. Angel begins to pant into Spike's kiss and Spike finally makes the connection. He abruptly breaks off the kiss, causing Angel's rhythm to falter.</p>
<p>“Spike,” Angel groans, unable to form any other words of protest.</p>
<p>“Nah, mate. You're coming with me this time, not before.”</p>
<p>Angel opens his eyes and looks down at Spike incredulously, both of them pausing the dance. “You little shit.”</p>
<p>“Keep that up and you'll be rogering your own todger.”</p>
<p>“Spike,” Angel practically whines.</p>
<p>“My kisses are too good, 'member?”</p>
<p>“I take it back.”</p>
<p>“Uh-uh. Not foolin' me.”</p>
<p>Angel lets out a growl of frustration and lets go of Spike's hand to grab his chin, stopping him from moving until he can kiss him again. Spike is laughing into the kiss. <em>That should make this an awful kiss. Why the hell is this still so good?</em> Angel once again starts to lose his thoughts and his pelvis begins an automatic rocking, all his attention now focused on the feel of Spike's hand around their cocks, Spike's cock sliding next to his, Spike's lips on his, tongue now darting in and out as Spike's laughter dies. Spike starts matching Angel's pace again, both of them moving faster and faster, unable to stave off their second climaxes as well as they should. Spike's movements start getting jerky before Angel's, but the older vampire is not far behind. They both come within seconds of each other, moaning into each other's mouths.</p>
<p>The kiss finally breaks off and Angel lowers his head next to Spike's, noticing for the first time how drenched in sweat they are. He's half conscious by the time Spike wiggles his hips, shoving at Angel's shoulder with his free hand.</p>
<p>“Hunh?”</p>
<p>“Off. Squashed.”</p>
<p>Even in his almost asleep state, Angel notices Spike doesn't actually sound irritated, just tired. He shifts enough to the side so he's still somewhat on Spike, but enough off him that Spike is able to move his hand from between them. The blond wriggles just a little so he's in a slightly more comfortable position and then stops moving. Angel lifts his head some to look at him and sees that the younger man is already passed out. Angel flops his head back down, brings his hand up to cup Spike's face and begins to doze off himself. His last thought before losing consciousness: <em>The man kisses like his life depends on it.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Mother of All Mornings After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You ran off, you great pillock. Couldn't even bloody well face me!”</p><p>“What? No I didn't. I went back to my suite. I didn't want anything awkward.”</p><p>“Awkward?! Yeah, 'cause there's nothing more awkward than having the courage to face a fucking mother of a morning after, is there?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big emotional whomp</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Oh god. Oh no. Jesus</em>. Angel raises himself from the bed, being extremely careful not to wake Spike. Not that he should have to worry; Spike will probably sleep at least another ten hours, if the punk's history with massive binges holds to form. He quietly dresses and exits the room like it's on fire; as fast as possible because he's going to die if he stays. <em>How do I look him in the face later? Oh god. I am so fucked</em>. He slinks back to his own suite, careful not to pass Illyria's room on the way.</p><p>He slumps into his arm chair, putting his head in his hands. <em>Oww. Vampires aren't supposed to get hangovers this bad. It's a punishment for doing something so stupid. We were finally friends. We were truly friends, weren't we? I screwed that all up now. There's not a doubt that I started it this time. He's going to hate me for taking advantage of him while he was drunk and upset over the whole Buffy thing</em>. Angel raises his head only to bring it down onto the chair back, swings his hands down to grip the armrests tightly. <em>What the hell am I going to do? I need to fix this. How do I fix this?</em></p><p>He gets up and heads into the kitchenette, digging a bottle of ibuprofen out of the cabinet and downing a handful. His stomach immediately lurches at the intrusion, but vampires can't vomit, so he just has to suffer the nausea without that relief. He heads to the fridge and takes out a container of blood, pours it into a mug and gulps it down without bothering to heat it up. <em>Don't fucking deserve the luxury of warm blood right now. He's going to wake up and hate me again. How could I be so stupid? What do I do?</em></p><p>Angel shakes his head, trying to clear both the hangover and his thoughts. He makes his way to the bedroom and strips again, throwing his clothes in the hamper. He can still smell both their come. It's a heavy scent, one that won't dissipate fast enough. It's making him hard and that's not good. He's scared to death he's going to get turned on every time he smells Spike from now on. He stomps into the bathroom, turning the tap as hot as it will go and then steps under the shower head.</p><p>
  <em>We were drunk. That's where we start. People do stupid stuff when they're drunk all the time. Why should we be an exception? Not that we're not an exception. Only man I've ever...nope, not even going to follow that thought. Not going to like where it leads. Surely Spike's going to wake up regretting this as much as I do. He's probably going to start cursing, using all his unique British slurs. I really hate when he does that. When was the last time he was even in England, not counting that quick trip to the Cotswalds? How does he keep up to date on the latest slang? Why am I even thinking about that, when I'm supposed to be thinking about how to get past this?</em>
</p><p>Angel growls as he works the soap into a lather, ignoring what exactly it is he's going to be scrubbing off his body. He's careful not to linger too long on his dick and ballsack, letting the water do it's work instead.</p><p>Angel rinses off the soap and reaches for the shampoo, grunting at his own double entendre, desperately trying to wipe sex from his mind. Given that the entire problem is because of sex, that's not easy to do. If only he could just forget. If only he could make Spike forget.</p><p>
  <em>Wait. Forget. I forgot about Lisbon. I don't forget things easily and that's a big thing to forget. Maybe...maybe I just pretend to forget? No. That won't work when I can still smell him on me. He'll know I do, too. How did I not smell him back then? Oh, wait, that's right. I slept for almost three days. That's probably why I don't remember the hangover, either. I only smelled my own sex when I woke up, not Spike specifically.</em>
</p><p>Angel grimaces as he rinses the shampoo from his hair. He's hoping it's chemical fresh smell will keep him from smelling other things all night long.</p><p>
  <em>Right. We're going to have to face each other. I'm going to have to talk to him. Spike's going to regret it. Of course he is. He might be friendlier with me these days, but he still said he doesn't like me. So, if he regrets it, and I regret it, then we should both be able to agree to forget about it. I mean, even if we can't go back to exactly being friends, we can at least be civil with each other. We don't need to see it as anything more than a drunken mistake. People make mistakes all the time when they're drunk. We just made a big mistake. We can get past it. We can forget about it. Can't we?</em>
</p><p>Angel nods to himself as he shuts off the shower and reaches for his towel, pretty sure he's found the solution for dealing with Spike. He has no idea what to do with the huge ball of guilt in his gut, though.</p><p>***</p><p>Spike slowly awakens, brain foggy. It takes him a minute to figure out he's in his room at the hotel, then another couple seconds to register that he's naked. Then, it all hits him full force and he sits straight up in bed, eyes wide and mouth agape. “BLOODY HELL!” He notices all of Angel's clothes are gone, which means the swank bastard couldn't even stick around and face the music. “Typical, is what that is.” He puts his hand to his head and sinks back down, determined not to rise until he's figured out what this all means.</p><p>
  <em>He was talking about Lisbon. Crusty old bugger didn't even remember. And then he did. And then this happened. Maybe it was all just him trying to fix what happened back then? Nah, ain't gonna give him that kinda credit. What was it then? Are we just not allowed to be friends or somethin'? No, that's too easy. We were friends. Real mates. Now we're what? Friends who had sex with each other. Who knew I was a goer for blokes? Well, maybe not 'blokes' plural. Maybe it's just one bloke in particular. Though, there's been one or two I found attractive, can't say as I'd o' bedded 'em. Definitely just Angel. And why is that?</em>
</p><p>Spike groans and flips onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow to let out a scream.</p><p>
  <em>Always been a tension between us. Thought it was hate. Well, yeah, it was that. But, sometimes it seemed like the smallest tug on that thread would 'o sent it all tumblin'. But, I don't even like him. Fuck. Who'm I kidding? I do like him. Didn't use ta. Do now. All that bein' friends caught up with us is all. That thread finally snapped. No delicate balance no more. Just plain truth. We wanted each other and it just took us bein' drunk enough to do something about it. Do I still want him? Balls. I still want him.</em>
</p><p>Spike lifts his head from the pillow and looks over at the bedside clock. It's just after five p.m. <em>Shouldn't I be more hungover?</em> The thought's slow to come, but when it does, to say he's not happy is an understatement. <em>He let me sleep all day and all night? That's sixteen bloody hours!</em> He rises from bed and goes to the window. Sure enough, the stars are early morning stars and the sun will probably be rising in an hour or two. Spike swings the heavy canvas curtain back in place and stomps into the bathroom, once again muttering to himself.</p><p>“Great big bloody pillock. Didn't just fly off; flew off and didn't bother checkin' on me when I did a no-show. Guess he really could care less. Why the hell did it happen, then?!”</p><p>Spike lingers in the shower before he returns to sit down, a towel wrapped around his waist. His nose curls up at the scent of sex, Angel's sex, permeating the room, making his cock start to perk up. He quickly grabs his clothes from yesterday and throws them in the closet. He picks up his spare pack of cigarettes and lighter from the bedside table and lights one up, trying to use the smoke to drown out the smell. He eyes the bed and grimaces, realizing there's probably traces of come on the mattress. He strips off the bedclothes, throws them in the closet and flips the mattress over, swearing quietly the entire time.</p><p>“Fucking ponce. Probably wants to forget it happened. Probably trying to find a way to convince me he forgot. You idiot, Spike. Of course he doesn't want me. Prick.”</p><p>He stalks over to the dresser and pulls out clean clothes, putting his red button up hanging open over the black t-shirt, layering to dull the scent. He puts on his boots, goes to the closet, then remembers he left the duster down in the ballroom. He leaves his room, but instead of heading down, he heads up to the fifth floor. There's a roomful of old mirrors up there and he's going to see if he can break every one.</p><p>He's in the middle of smashing the sixth mirror when he hears Gunn's footsteps coming down the hallway. He throws the shards away and goes to pick up the next one, a ghastly gothic affair with a swirling iron frame and sconces jutting off the sides. He cracks it over his knee and grins grimly as the glass shatters, but the iron refuses to budge. <em>Huh. Must have actually been old.</em> He doesn't turn around as Gunn enters the room, but he does set the mirror down.</p><p>“Whatcha want, Charlie?”</p><p>“Illyria said she heard a ruckus coming from the upper floors. I figured we got raccoons again. I know you can't see your reflection, Blondie, but that's no reason to let it out on the mirrors. Shouldn't you be in bed by now?”</p><p>Spike bends over and picks up a small shard, fascinated by the way the dimness is prisming off the cracks, splitting what little light there is into multiple tiny rainbows. It's as close as he's gotten to a rainbow in a hundred and twenty eight years.</p><p>“Ain't mad at the mirrors.”</p><p>“Right. Look, uhm, Angel told me about the whole Buffy getting married thing. Sorry, man.”</p><p>“Ain't mad at that, either.”</p><p>“You're not?”</p><p>“Was. Got a bigger fish frying in my brain now.”</p><p>“Is smashing the mirrors helping? Because, my man, that shit's loud this early in the morning.”</p><p>“Helping summat. Gotta wait until it's dark so I can go out and kill some vamps or other demons. That'll help.”</p><p>“Right. I love a good vampire dusting as much as the next guy, but that sounds like you're mad at someone and you're going to be pretending the vamps are them.”</p><p>“Got it in one. You oughta be a shrink.”</p><p>“Funny. Who you wanna kill?”</p><p>“Poof.”</p><p>“Angel? I thought you guys were finally friends.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too. Guess I was wrong. Leave me be, yeah? Got a roomful of mirrors to break.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, don't need to ask me twice. Angel said you needed time to yourself. I guess he wasn't kidding.”</p><p>Spike turns to watch Gunn leave the room, his head spinning. <em>Said I needed time to myself? Is that what he thinks? I'm going to stake him twice for that load of bollocks. Probably thinks he's sparing ole Spike's feelings. Oh, how noble you are, great and grand hero, with your poncy hair and poncy clothes and poncy fucking, fucking, fucking largesse to poor ole buggers like me.</em> Spike growls loudly and picks up the iron frame, using all his rage to bend it in two.</p><p>He's still at it an hour later when he catches a whiff of his grandsire. <em>Must have been focused too much on wrecking shit. He smells good. Damn him</em>. He sits with a thump on the floor, his back to the door, ignoring the glass shards digging into his ass.</p><p>“Better bugger off before I turn you into one of these. Better yet, shouldn't you be sleeping? Some of us didn't get their sleep cycle ruined, right?”</p><p>“Spike. You had a massive hangover. You always sleep through those. Me too, I guess. Must be why I don't remember having many.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Are you going to explain why you're having a tantrum?”</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>“You're being ridiculous.”</p><p>“And you're being your typical pompous arse self.”</p><p>“I don't want to argue.”</p><p>“You..you...arrgh!”</p><p>Spike stands up and rounds on Angel, who's still standing near the doorway. The glass crunches under his boots. Angel's not meeting his eyes.</p><p>“You ran off, you great pillock. Couldn't even bloody well face me!”</p><p>“What? No I didn't. I went back to my suite. I didn't want anything awkward.”</p><p>“Awkward?! Yeah, 'cause there's nothing more awkward than having the courage to face a fucking mother of a morning after, is there?”</p><p>“No..that's not...it's not like that. Look, what happened, happened. We were drunk. People do stupid things when they're drunk.”</p><p>Spike starts shaking in rage, barely able to contain himself, and replies icily, hands gripped in tight fists at his sides, “Stupid. It was stupid?”</p><p>Angel keeps his head down, eyes on the shards covering the floor. “Well, I mean, would it have happened if we weren't drunk off our minds? So, yeah, it was a stupid mistake. Can we both just agree to try and forget it?”</p><p>“A mistake you want to forget.”</p><p>Angel sighs and looks up at the ceiling, noting the cracked and peeling paint. “Spike, neither one of us should be walking around with this kind of regret, but here we are. It's better to just try to go back to normal, don't you think?”</p><p>“Regret.”</p><p>He finally looks at him, still not looking him in the eye. “Stop repeating what I've said back at me. If you're really this angry, maybe we should just keep our distance for a while. There's a large nest of vampires up in Pasadena. I'm thinking of getting a hotel room up there, staying for a couple days. After seeing you like this, it's definitely the best idea.” Angel spins on his heel, his own arms down at his sides, hands balled into fists, and beats a hasty retreat.</p><p>Spike continues to shake for several minutes, taking deep breaths to try to steady himself. He looks down at his hands and realizes his short nails have dug into his palms and they're bleeding slightly. A choked off laugh, nearly hysterical, has him bringing his left hand, still in a fist, up to his mouth. He forces himself to unfold his fists and licks his palms to soothe the cuts as they heal themselves. He turns back around and goes to the wall, leaning on it sideways, placing his head against it near his shoulder. The tears are threatening, but he's doing his damnedest not to let them fall. <em>Ain't gonna let him make me cry. He ain't worth it. A mistake. That's all I ever seem to be: everyone’s bloody mistake</em>.</p><p>It's not much later when he hears the crunch of glass again. He can't smell anyone.</p><p>“Hey, Blue. 'M not in the mood for a training session.”</p><p>“The grief comes off you in sickening waves, half-breed.”</p><p>“Hunh. Then don't smell it.”</p><p>“I cannot avoid it. The other half-breed is radiating a similar feeling, yet not exactly the same.”</p><p>“Regret, Blue. That's called regret. He made a big bloody mistake and wants to forget it ever happened because it was so ugly stupid.”</p><p>“I am familiar with the regret of others. His emotions are closer to grief, but not a grief I am familiar with. Yours is palpable, however. You are grieving this mistake, then?”</p><p>“Hah! Yeah, somethin' like that. Leave me alone, would ya?”</p><p>“I will do as you ask, but only because I find the grief of others intolerable. Please try to contain yours soon. I find killing things helps.”</p><p>Her light footsteps recede from the room, leaving Spike with silence and his own spinning thoughts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Accept and Move On?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Angel uses his words. Kind of.</p><p>Spike uses his words. Kind of.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The vamp jumps on Angel from behind and he backs up to slam her into the brick wall, making her lose her grip and fall off. The one in front takes the opportunity to rush at him, but Angel has his stake up faster than the other vampire can run. The male out of the way, he turns around to the stunned female, pulling her up by her pony tail and slamming the stake home. Those were the last two of the five who had set on him as soon as he'd dusted a sixth one who was already feeding. Angel had heard the human's heartbeat slowing and stopping during the fight. He walks over to him and puts his ear to his chest just to make sure.</p><p>“Damn it!”</p><p>Angel rubs the dust off himself and exits the alleyway. The nest he's been working on is full of the newly turned, making them a little easier to kill, but he knows there are older ones siring them, since he had a fight with one of them. She had to have been at least one hundred. If he can just get to the sires, he can finish wiping out the nest and be done with it. He wants to get back to L.A.</p><p>He's been in Pasadena a week as of today, much longer than he intended. The nest had been rumored to be around thirty vamps, but Angel quickly discovered it was near one hundred and fifty strong. He's killed around ninety of them, but he's well aware that more are still being sired. He's doesn't know why the older vampires are building up such high numbers of new ones, but he knows it can't be good.</p><p><em>Right. It's time to call Gunn and have him bring Illyria up with him. I should also ask Spike to head out here, but I don't know if he's still angry with me.</em> Angel's thoughts have been turning to Spike the entire week, reexamining their short conversation. He's pretty certain at this point he used the wrong words. He knows how important words are to Spike, knows how suspicious the man can be of other's intentions. Angelus had viciously taught him that lesson time and again. He keeps replaying the words Spike repeated back at him: stupid, mistake, forget, regret. There's no way Spike didn't take those words to heart, no way he wouldn't have seen them as Angel's opinion on him, rather than the unfortunate circumstance of being drunk when it happened.</p><p>He remembers Angelus thinking about him in a sexual manner, but it was always combined with a desire to control, dominate, and manipulate, to wipe the floor with an all-too-human William, emphasize Drusilla's poor choice at choosing dear “Willy”. The wine cellar in Lisbon had been the culmination of that desire, even if he hadn't remembered it. <em>And I'm remembering more and more about that day, another act to add to the list of sins I'm guilty of. How come he never brought it up?</em></p><p>Spike had made some off-handed comment the night before about how he couldn't wait to get back to Dru. Angelus, drunk off his mind, teased the young vampire about it, talked about Dru probably bedding dozens of others while in Greece, until Spike snapped and tried to fight. Vampires can get aroused when they're fighting and the young ones (Spike was only eleven at the time) don't control it very well. It wasn't hard to twist it into rough sex. They'd fought for control and Angelus had won. He'd entered him dry and fucked him raw. The blond had sworn profusely, but enjoyed the harsh treatment in spite of himself. Would explain why the younger Spike had been mad at him for months after, though.</p><p><em>But, what happened last week wasn't anything like that</em>. It wasn't violent and Spike definitely gave his consent, both in words and actions. It wasn't two soulless vampires using sex as another way to fight. They'd just been drunk and the inhibition which came with alcohol let them express some subconscious want, suppressed sexual attraction. That's all.</p><p>
  <em>And we should both be okay with it. It's not the worst thing we've done together, not by a long shot. Now I just need talk to the idiot and make sure I use the right words this time. Hopefully a week has been long enough for him to cool off. I'm not sure what I'm going to do if he's still mad at me. I just want to go back to being friends. That was a good four months, some of the best in years, not being angry at each other anymore, being able to interact with someone with shared history, another souled vampire. Fine, I can't think about him now without seeing him naked, but I can get over that. I'm used to not being able to act on my desires.</em>
</p><p>When Angel gets back to his hotel room, he dials Gunn's number.</p><p>“Sup?”</p><p>“Hey Gunn. This nest is bigger than I thought. I think they're planning something. If you're not working on a case, I could use you guys up here. All of you.”</p><p>“Damn. A nest you and Spike can't handle must be huge.”</p><p>“Me and Spike? It's just me. I do want you to ask him to come up here with you, though.”</p><p>“Uhm, Angel, the dude ain't here. He took off days ago. Illyria and I figured he joined you. Shit.”</p><p>
  <em>He took off? And he accused me of running away?</em>
</p><p>“Angel, you there?”</p><p>“Yes. We'll deal with Spike being gone later. He's a big boy; he can take care of himself. You and Illyria need to come up here.”</p><p>“On it. Be there in about half an hour.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Angel sets down the phone. His stomach is doing cartwheels. <em>Where did he go? Did he decide to go back out on his own, back to Vegas to deal with demons there? Some other city where he can be a champion? Cleveland to help the Slayers there with that Hellmouth? I need to talk to him. Maybe he decided we shouldn't be around each other at all anymore. If I can just talk with him, I'm sure we can work it out. Did he get dusted? Please, please tell me he didn't get dusted. Shit, shit, shit.</em></p><p>***</p><p>Spike grunts as the Mortag demon punches him in the gut. He ducks the next swing and sweeps it's legs out from under it. With one swift motion, he grabs the head and uses his switchblade to cut the throat. Blue fluid, viscous and foul smelling comes pouring out as the demon dies.</p><p>“Great. Now I smell like a latrine. Nasty bugger.”</p><p>He kicks the demon's body for good measure, wipes the knife off with his shirt and puts it back in his duster pocket. <em>That's the fifth big demon tonight.</em> He heads back out of the alley, exhausted and ready to get back to his hotel room. He's been at the roach motel for four days now and still hasn't saved up enough dosh for the car repairs he needs to get out of town. It'll probably be another week, unless he wins bigger pots. <em>Bleedin' soul won't let me steal one anymore. Can't believe even the thought of it bothers me. If my car hadn't chosen this week to go wonky, I'd've been gone by now. Can fix close to anything on a car except the bloody transmission. God, I hate L.A. City of Angels. His town. He can have it.</em></p><p>For the last week, Spike has been wavering between anger at Angel and feeling sorry he lost his new friendship with him. After a century and a quarter of animosity, he hadn't known what a relief it would be. Another problem, after that shag, is every time he tries to wank, it's Angel who invades his fantasies. Spike even went to his favorite strip club. Yeah, sure, he got a stiffy watching the girls, but when he goes to finish the job on his own, it's an annoyingly big Irishman he's picturing. He's never been smaller than any of his partners and, don't you know it, the novelty appeals to him. He felt safe, if squashed, with Angel lying on top of him. He knows being pissed beyond belief had something to do with it, but he also knows he wouldn't have passed out so quickly if it didn't feel good to be under Angel.</p><p>For Spike, once a subconscious desire becomes a conscious desire there's no way to push it back under. It was like that with Buffy, when that damn dream put him on to what he'd been ignoring. It wasn't healthy or right, was selfish and obsessive, but that was before the soul. After the soul, she was still his focus, but he wasn't obsessed anymore. <em>Still a little selfish, wantin' her to forgive me. Figured out at the end it wasn't important: just wanted her safe and happy. And she's happy now, with someone else. Gotta let go of being selfish and be happy she's happy. She still sees me and Angel as important to her, even if it's in the past. That means a hell of a lot. Maybe I will go to the wedding. Would be nice to see the Nibblet again, too. And kill Xander. And maybe, by then, I can handle looking at the Great Poof.</em></p><p>The best thing to do right now, Spike figures, is to go away. He can't get angry at Angel if he's not around Angel. He won't have to be sexually frustrated if the focus of those desires isn't in reach. <em>It's not like I'm in love with the knob head. I just need to put some time and distance between us. Maybe I don't need a car. Maybe I need a one-way ticket to London. If I'm on the other side of the world, I can't be tempted to forgive him and go see him. He made it pretty clear he's not interested in a repeat, that he don't want me that way. A stupid mistake to regret and forget. I want him that way which means if I stay, I'll just make shambles of it. Better if I go</em>.</p><p>***</p><p>“There is a vampire similar to Angel's age in this building. I believe it is the ringleader. We should eliminate it and be done with this. After two days, I tire of this town. There is nowhere I go where I am not stared at by mewling humans. They do not do this in L.A. Why?”</p><p>“Because L.A. is full of freaks. You blend in.”</p><p>Illyria looks askance at Gunn, insulted. “I am not a freak. I am magnificent.”</p><p>“He was talking about your skin and hair. You look like an L.A. eccentric. They don't have those up here. Can we focus?”</p><p>“There are forty-two vampires in the building. I believe we eliminated the rest last night.”</p><p>Gunn chokes. “Forty-two? I walked into an office with fifteen bloodsucking political campaign workers and barely came out alive, remember?”</p><p>“I recall hiding your limp form behind a dumpster when you fell unconscious from blood loss. You did not die as I believed you would. You also did not have others with you at the campaign office.”</p><p>“True. I'd still like better odds.”</p><p>“If my pet were here we would have better odds. He and Angel fight well together.”</p><p>“Firebomb.”</p><p>“Angel, you tellin' me you brought ingredients for that?”</p><p>“I figured once I killed enough of them, I could trap the rest. We just need to find a way to chain up all the doors so they can't get out.”</p><p>Illyria frowns at Angel.“This storage facility has fifteen entrances. There are seventeen windows. I estimate at least half will escape.”</p><p>“Easier to hunt down twenty-one vamps than forty-two,” he answers her.</p><p>“You make a valid point. We must ensure the primary sire remains in the building.”</p><p>“They'll smell me and Gunn if we try to sneak in there. It's why I had you do recon.”</p><p>“You are suggesting I kill the sire?”</p><p>Angel puts his hand to his eyes, rubbing them vigorously. “You're the only one who can shift through time. We can't let him keep raising a vampire army to take over the town.”</p><p>“My powers are not as they once were, as you are aware. My time shifts aren't as efficient. They may receive too much warning from my intrusion and flee the building before your firebomb can ignite.”</p><p>“So, we time your shift carefully...see what I did there?”</p><p>Angel and Illyria look over at Gunn with scowls on their faces. “Man, Spike woulda at least gave that a two, not a zero.”</p><p>Angel looks back at Illyria. “I think your appearance and killing the sire will be enough of a distraction for Gunn and I to chain up the most commonly used doors while you're fighting them.”</p><p>“You are suggesting I remain within the building after I have killed their leader so the remaining vampires can attack me? I am not to be used as bait. It is undignified.”</p><p>“Relax woman. He said distraction.”</p><p>“There is not much difference in this scenario.”</p><p>Angel's had enough. “Okay, okay, let's just work out how we're going to coordinate this and get it done. I think we're all eager to get back to L.A.”</p><p>It's nearly fifteen minutes later when they have a plan in place. Angel has to return to the hotel to get the bomb ingredients. He looks over at his phone, suddenly wishing he had given in when Spike had been whining about getting one for him, too. Gunn has some legal cases he does on the side to earn income and Illyria doesn't eat or buy clothing, so she doesn't really need money. Spike plays poker for extra cash, but is mainly limited to his pay from Angel Investigations and Angel can't pay what he used to for Cordelia and Wesley. The senior partners made sure to drain his accounts of even the funds he had before being CEO. It wouldn't have killed his budget to get the younger vampire a phone, though. At least he would be able to call him now and see if he's alright.</p><p>***</p><p>They finally finish tracking down the last of the straggling vampires two nights later. Angel's been surreptitiously calling his contacts in L.A., trying to track down where Spike got to. He can't let on to the others how worried he is, how he thinks Spike may have left for good or gotten himself hurt. They'll demand more details on just how bad of a fight he and Spike got in to and Angel won't know how to handle that discussion. <em>It wasn't a fight. It was a disagreement over an incident. Yeah, say that, Angel, and they'll want to know what the incident was.</em></p><p>Finally, back at the Hyperion during the middle of the next day, he's woken by a call from one of those contacts giving him the name of a hotel and a room number. <em>He didn't leave town. Thank God. Please let him be willing to talk to me. This whole thing is starting to drive me up the wall.</em> As soon as the sun dips below the horizon, before it's even really dark enough, Angel is out the door to the car and on his way. Soon, he's standing outside a hotel room door in one of the worst areas of L.A., hoping his car doesn't end up stolen. He knocks, half wanting Spike to be there, half hoping he's not.</p><p>“Wrong room. Don't need no company.”</p><p>“Not a hooker, Spike.”</p><p>There's a brief moment of silence, then he can hear Spike's footsteps approach the door, but it doesn't open.</p><p>“How'd you find me?”</p><p>“I have contacts all over town, you know that. Will you just open the door and let me in?”</p><p>The locks click and Spike opens the door, but keeps his eyes downcast. He gestures for Angel to enter, then closes and relocks the door behind him, remaining facing the door, one hand resting on the frame, other by his side.</p><p>“I don't think you need the locks.”</p><p>“Had a junkie stumble in here yesterday. Started lockin' it then.”</p><p>“Oh.” Angel looks down at the carpet under his feet. He's sure it hasn't been changed in thirty years. He has no idea how to start this conversation. The long pause is starting to feel uncomfortable.</p><p>“So, whatcha want, Poof? I'm 'bout to go out and kill some nasties. You're holding me up.”</p><p><em>Well, here goes nothing.</em> “I want you to come back to the Hyperion. I want us to work together again. We make a good team, if nothing else.”</p><p>Spike turns around slowly, crosses his arms over his chest and looks at Angel, who's still focused on the floor.</p><p>“Yeah, if nothing else. Sure you can stand bein' reminded of your 'mistake' every day?”</p><p>Angel grimaces and finally looks up at Spike. “I'm not always the greatest at choosing the right words, you know that. There's four words I wish I could take back, okay?”</p><p>Spike lifts up his chin, eyes unreadable. “And those would be?”</p><p>Angel takes a steadying breath. <em>I can do this. It's not like I've never been able to admit to Spike when I'm wrong. </em>He clears his throat and says, quietly, “Stupid, mistake, forget and regret. I didn't catch on until a few days later how you would take the way I phrased it. It's just something that happened. Yeah, it wouldn't have happened if we hadn't been drunk, but that doesn't mean we can't just accept it and move on. Willow was right. We'd become friends. I want that back.”</p><p>Spike keeps looking straight at Angel, but his expression has softened somewhat. He even looks a little.<em>..suprised?</em> “You got awful close to telling me you were wrong, there. Don't believe that's ever happened before.”</p><p>“Well, it's not going to happen now. I mean, I'm not denying it, but I don't think it's possible for me to actually say those words to you. History, you know?”</p><p><em>Oh, we've got more'n our fair share o' history, grandsire. New piece to it now, though, ain't there?</em> Aloud: “Once told you the same thing about tellin' you you're right. That ain't gonna happen now, either.”</p><p>“What's that mean? You won't come back?”</p><p>“Didn't say that. Jus'...not sure I can jump right back into being friendly like again.” <em>'Cause if I'm friendlier with you, it's gonna make me think of all the things I've been imagining doing that are never gonna happen.</em></p><p><em>Ouch. You really did mess this one up, Angel</em>. “So, you will or you won't come back?”</p><p>“Will. Jus'...gimme space, yeah? Kinda like you told Gunn I needed. Ta for that, by the way.”</p><p>Angel has the grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah. I uhm, I wasn't sure what to tell him about you not being there that night.”</p><p>“Truth woulda worked.”</p><p>Angel blanches. “Wh—what?”</p><p>“Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Peaches. I just meant you could 'o told him I was sleepin' off bein' pissed outta my loaf.”</p><p>“Pissed out of your...?”</p><p>“Drunk off my head, you daft blighter.”</p><p>Angel almost pouts. “I knew what pissed meant, just not the loaf part.”</p><p>Spike sees his opportunity to get under Angel's skin. “Gettin' the message you don't want me to tell 'em it was because we had a drunken wank off, then?”</p><p>Angel starts and stares at Spike in shock. “Don't put it like that.”</p><p>“How'd you like to put it, then,” with a cock of his eyebrow and a smirk and tongue curled behind teeth, double entendre fully intended.</p><p>Angel's not sure if Spike is attempting to irritate him or turn him on, but somehow the stupid limey is doing both at the same time. <em>Jesus</em>. “Do you have to,” he asks, managing to sound exasperated and not at all aroused.</p><p>“Have to what” Spike counters, affecting an air of innocence, hand on his chest like he's been staked.</p><p>“Grow up.”</p><p>“Make me.”</p><p>Angel throws his hands up in the air before stalking to the door. He puts his hand on the door knob, but Spike hasn't moved. Angel's not sure they should be standing this close. He'd be amazed if Spike hasn't smelled his arousal yet. “Would you move?”</p><p>“Could tell you to make me. Again.” <em>Can smell you. Thought you just wanted to accept it and move on? Bloody liar. Gonna make you suffer for that, making me think it was just me. Gonna have me all up in knots, I'm gonna do the same to you.</em></p><p>Angel puts on his most serious expression, hoping Spike will mistake his arousal for aggression. They can be the same thing with vampires, and Spike knows it. Vampires their age can separate it when they want, but there's no reason to not let Spike think Angel just doesn't care about separating it.</p><p>“Could throw you through the door. Again. And I'm not even a puppet this time.”</p><p>The memory almost makes Spike break his composure and burst out laughing, but he holds it together long enough to walk past Angel, brushing against his arm on purpose, invading his space to rattle him further. Angel stiffens, not wanting to admit to the chills the contact creates. His stomach is doing that weird flip flop thing. He unlocks the door and is about to leave, when Spike speaks up behind him.</p><p>“Hey. I need a ride. My car's gone wonky.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh no. No way am I sitting that close to you for fifteen minutes. I can't even stand in the same room with you, the way you're affecting me right now, you tease.</em>
</p><p>“You're a vampire. Plenty of physical stamina. Walk.” Angel slams the door behind him for emphasis.</p><p>Spike sits down on the end of the bed and relaxes his shoulders. He looks down at the bulge in his pants. <em>Good thing he was too distracted by his own knob to notice mine. Wanker.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. An Agreement of Sorts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Okay, look: I'm not capable of not thinking about things, just like you're not capable of ignoring your instincts. I'm going to 'let it be' for now, but don't get mad at me if I need to talk about it later.”</p><p>“Fine, fine. Not promising anything, though. You come at me with thoughts I don't want to hear and I'm gonna be pissed off. Can we talk about somethin', anythin' else, now?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter and the next one are basically porn. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spike wakes in a sweat, cock hard and balls drawn up tight, near ready to come. He brings his hands down, one tugging on his sack and the other circling his cock, holding it tight at the base. He imagines it's Angel from the dream, edging him. He's leaking precome, almost a stream of it, his foreskin forced down around the swollen knob head. He feels every pulsing vein. He lets go of his balls and strokes, once, twice, then comes with force enough to bring his hips off the bed, thrusting into the air. He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling out Angel's name. The taste of his own blood fills his mouth. He's brought out the demon without even feeling the bones crunch into place. He shifts back to his human visage, shudders and swears softly, unable to give it his full voice.</p><p>The room smells heavily of his spend. The bedsheets have already been stained three times this week. The dreams are becoming incredibly intense. Worse than it had been with Buffy. <em>Probably because I knew she didn't want me. I know he wants me, but he's never going to do a bloody thing about it. And I can't do a bloody thing because that could mean another morning after where he'll say all the wrong things. Ain't repeatin' that whole mess. I could be the one to leave him there to wake up alone this time, though; make him wonder if it meant a damn to me.</em> Spike shakes his head to clear the thoughts.</p><p>He's been teasing Angel regularly, finding little ways to turn him on, even in front of the others. He suspects Illyria is catching something amiss, but she hasn't said anything yet. Anne just complained to him the other day about how distracted Angel seemed lately. <em>Serves him right well, it does. Tryin' day in and day out to ignore it, pretending like he don't want it, like he don't want me. As hard as he's makin' it for me to think about anything other than shagging him, he deserves to be “distracted.” Stupid git.</em></p><p>He gets up from the bed, feeling his come slide down his abdomen into his curlies and down his thigh a little. He grimaces and heads straight to the bathroom and into the shower. His cock is still rock hard. He tries to keep his hands off it, but it's nearly impossible. He strokes it experimentally under the water and gets a full body jolt. He turns his head up into the shower stream and closes his eyes, once again picturing Angel, but imagining it's the brunet's mouth this time, wet and persistent, moaning around his girth. The urgency of coming is gone, making him linger on his pulls and he strokes his finger over his his head, across the sensitive opening and around his curled up foreskin, imagining it's Angel's tongue. He brings his right hand down and fists his cock near the base, making small strokes as his left hand plays with his head.</p><p>The shower is going cold by the time he comes, bringing one hand up to brace himself on the tile to keep from keeling over. He winces at the feeling of cold water on his sensitive cock, making it deflate and curl up much faster than comfort will allow. He finishes washing off as quickly as possible, steps out, towels off and dresses quickly. He checks the clock and curses. He's late for an early evening meeting. He's out the door and down the stairs in less than a minute.</p><p>The scent isn't strong enough for a human, but he can still smell his come, the hormones leaking out of his skin, so he knows Angel will to. It makes him smirk as he takes his final steps into the lobby. Angel is leaning against the counter and Spike can see his nose twitch as he straightens up. He watches as Angel sets his shoulders and face, affecting an attitude of irritation to mask the arousal Spike can smell.</p><p>“Nice of you to finally join us.”</p><p>“Sorry. Had a dream that distracted me when I woke up.” He sees Angel's Adam's apple move up and down, a large gulp.</p><p>“Everything good, Blondie?”</p><p>“Yeah, Charlie Boy. Wasn't bad, just intense.” He's looking directly at Angel as he says this. His own nose twitches and he notices he's not the only one who had to have a wank when he woke up. His smile turns from a smirk into a grin he infuses with as much sexual undertone as possible, glad Charlie's not facing him.</p><p>Angel scowls at him. <em>I'm going to kill him. I am genuinely going to stake him. It's been a month of this subtle flirtation, him letting me smell how often he's coming. He's absolutely shameless and it's driving me insane. I haven't felt like this since Darla was messing with my dreams. I want to pin him to the floor and either kill him or fuck him. Is this what he did to finally get Buffy to have sex with him? No wonder. Damn him.</em></p><p>“Regardless, it'd be nice if you could be here on time. Gunn has a case he's working on that seems to have ties to some demon gang. They murdered someone during an armed robbery and set a human up to take the fall for them. We need to help her prove her innocence.”</p><p>Illyria tilts her head to the side. “I have read of the human judicial system in this nation. They are unaware demons exist. How are we to show that demons were responsible and not this woman?”</p><p>“We don't need to prove it was the gang. We just need to find proof she wasn't the one to pull the trigger, that she was just in the shop. Camera was off. Wrong place and time. Girl is scared she's goin' away for life and she's just eighteen. Gotta give the sister a chance.”</p><p>Spike finally looks over at Gunn. “You took this case pro bono, didn't you?”</p><p>“Yeah. She's from my old hood. Anne knows her from the shelter. She's had it rough, got tossed outta home at sixteen. Her parents are messed up drunks. They ain't gonna help her.”</p><p>“Right. What you need done, Charlie?”</p><p>They outline a plan of action and separate to their different tasks. As Spike is walking up to the third floor to get his sword, he hears Illyria's quiet steps behind him.</p><p>“Watcha want, Smurfette?”</p><p>She quickens her pace to climb the stairs beside him. “You are attempting to form a sexual relationship with Angel.” It's not a question, but a blunt statement.</p><p>He looks over at her and grins. “Nah, just tryin' to drive him to distraction.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“'Cause he deserves it. Somethin' happened and he's tryin' to pretend it ain't affected him like it done to me.”</p><p>“If you do not desire a sexual relationship, why do I sense so much lust emanating from you?”</p><p>They're outside Spike's door by this point. He leans on the door frame and tilts his head at her. “Didn't say I don't desire one. It ain't gonna happen, is all.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“'Cause Angel's a stubborn git. And it'd ruin the way we get on, now. Don't wanna go back to how it was before. Don't wanna be angry at him all the time. Don't wanna have to leave, which I would if somethin' more happened.”</p><p>“More. You have already copulated. I do not understand. You both desire each other and have consummated this desire at least once. It is senseless to act as if it is not already the new state of your relationship. Why?”</p><p>“Just told you.”</p><p>“I do not see, if you have already taken this step and are still tolerable companions, why continuing on this path would have negative results.”</p><p>“You don't know me and Angel.”</p><p>“I am familiar enough with both of your personalities; they are opposite each other in a way that is complimentary, not contradictory. It is complicated and hard for me to understand as it is part of your human heritage, not your vampiric selves. Human relationships confuse me. You feel one way and act another. It is not logical behavior.”</p><p>“Think about how you felt toward Wesley. That was human, not demonic. It wasn't self servin', like demons are.”</p><p>“I believe, having absorbed some of Fred's memories, I also absorbed some of her emotions. My feelings toward Wesley were romantic. I have become more aware, upon much meditation, I loved him as one human loves another. Are these your feelings toward Angel? Is this the closeness you are avoiding?”</p><p>Spike's taken aback. <em>Course I don't love 'em. Do I? No, I can't. It's impossible, ain't it? Can't go from a century o' hating someone to loving 'em just 'cause you made peace, made friends. Can I?</em></p><p>“Course not. It's just about sex, that's all. We got drunk and shagged. Now, we both wanna shag again, but we both know it ain't a good idea. That's all.”</p><p>Illyria looks at him skeptically. She clearly doesn't believe him. She nods her head and turns to go. Spike calls out to her as she's walking awy, “Hey, Blue!” She turns around and looks at him expectantly.</p><p>“Best not to talk to Angel about this. Or anyone else. It's private. Got it?”</p><p>“It is in my best interest to ensure my pet's continued comfort. I will do as you ask.”</p><p>“Yeah. Ta.”</p><p>She nods again and continues walking toward the stairs to go down to the lobby and wait for him. They're the muscle in this plan, while Angel and Gunn get to play detective. He goes into his room and leans back against the door. <i>Me, in love with Angel. Blue's out of her mind.</i></p><p>***</p><p>Angel sets down his book, unable to concentrate. Every spare second he has lately has been spent thinking about Spike. If he didn't know himself any better, he'd think it was becoming an obsession. The little shit suddenly stopped flirting with him the day after Gunn's case, leaving Angel to wonder if something is wrong. <em>And that's a sad state of affairs, when Spike not flirting with me means something's wrong. Jesus. How did we get to this point and how do we get back from it?</em> He hears familiar footsteps coming down the hall. <em>How does he do that? I think about him and there he is.</em></p><p>Spike knocks on his door. Angel gets up and opens the door wide, showing Spike he's welcome in. Spike walks in, rubbing the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. <em>What's got him worked up?</em></p><p>“Look, Illyria knows. She noticed me bein'...well, you know. Told me she wouldn't talk about it to anyone else. But she said somethin' that's been weighin' heavy on my mind the last few days.”</p><p>“Thank you for finally fessing up to driving me batty, you little shit. What did she say?”</p><p>Spike takes a couple steps towards Angel. Angel backs up until he's bumped into the back of his sofa. Spike cocks an eyebrow at him, but doesn't advance any further.</p><p>“She said, pretty much, since we did it once and we both seem to want to do it again, we may as well go ahead and go for it. Gotta say, as hard as thinkin' about you keeps makin' me, I think she's right.”</p><p>Angel freezes in shock. “I don't...I don't think that's a good idea, Spike. We...we were just drunk.”</p><p>Spike starts moving toward Angel as he responds. “Yeah, you say that, but you keep gettin' your knickers all twisted every time we're around each other. Can smell how much you want me. Know how much I want you.” He's about two feet from Angel by this point, well within arm's reach. Angel shudders imperceptibly, the closeness and the discussion both getting to him.</p><p>“Look, Spike, I'm not going to deny the obvious. I just don't know that we wouldn't end up hating each other again at some point, for some reason.”</p><p>Spike reaches out and puts a hand on Angel's cheek. The older man leans into it, his body not listening to his mind. He's practically hard just from thinking about what Spike's saying.</p><p>“That could happen anyway,” Spike counters, voice getting lower from arousal. He slides his hand down from Angel's cheek to his neck, around the front to his collar bone, running his fingers along the line of bone.</p><p>Glad he's wearing a shirt and it's not skin on skin, Angel has shut his eyes and is trying his hardest not to reach out and pull Spike to him. “Spike...” It's both a warning and a plea for mercy.</p><p>Spike takes a step and closes the distance, leaving maybe five centimeters between their bodies. “Angel, please. Want you so badly. Please.”</p><p>Angel's eyes open and he meets steamy blue ones, staring at him. The raw want, the need in those eyes is heart wrenching. Almost of their own volition, his hands come up to Spike's waist and squeeze slightly, pulling Spike to him. Spike shuts his eyes and his mouth drops open a little. His cock jumps. Their hips aren't quite touching yet, just far enough apart that he can't feel if Angel is hard. He opens his eyes again to find Angel looking at him with a strange mixture of lust and fascination. “You really do want me, don't you, William?” Spike doesn't even react negatively to the name, nodding ever so slightly. In a split second, Angel's lips are on his.</p><p>The kiss is more familiar this time, but no less intense. Their lips open and close on each other, dancing in time. Spike's hand moves up to Angel's cheek, the other gripping his broad shoulder. Angel's hands are still on Spike's waist, not holding him nearly as tightly as the first time, just resting there as if they were made to, fingers wrapped around smooth muscle. Angel feels weak in the knees, a sensation he hasn't felt since the first time he kissed Buffy. His mind doesn't make the connection, too wrapped up in the here and now, holding Spike, kissing Spike.</p><p>He slides one hand up Spike's ribs, the other down to his hip, and pulls him the rest of the way in. Chests and cocks meet, stomachs grazing each other. Spike gasps and Angel takes the opportunity to move his tongue into Spike's mouth, once again finding and teasing against his fang buds. Spike shoves his tongue under Angel's, forcing it upward. Angel gets the hint and begins pressing harder with the tip of his tongue and is rewarded with a stifled moan. His upper hand goes around Spike's back, rubbing the defined muscles across his shoulder blades. His lower hand slides down and around, grabbing Spike's ass to press their pelvises closer together. The reward this time is a full throated groan as Spike's cock is pressed alongside Angel's. The zipper doesn't seem to be an issue anymore and Angel notices absentmindedly that Spike's jeans today aren't quite as tight as they were that night.</p><p>Both of Spike's hands have now moved up, one resting in the crook of Angel's neck, the other tangling in the back of his short hair. Spike isn't as uncoordinated this time, so the pull is measured with just the right amount of strength and now it's Angel's turn to moan into Spike's mouth, slipping his tongue out to rub against Spike's as moves his head back. Spike makes a small sound of protest, but then Angel begins to kiss along his cheekbone, down to his jaw. Spike tilts his head back and to the side, giving Angel full access to his throat, an incredible gesture of trust from a vampire.</p><p>Angel places kisses first under his jaw, then across his Adam's apple, light and feathery, then slips out the tip of his tongue to lick a small trail up behind his ear, then down again to the juncture of neck and shoulder, right below where a kill bite would be placed. Spike is gasping for unneeded air, his fingers tightening against Angel's neck and in his hair. Angel opens his mouth and gives him a soft bite with blunt teeth. Spike lets out a strangled moan, a desperate sound. His pelvis begins rocking ever-so-gently between Angel's hand on his ass and Angel's cock alongside his.</p><p>Angel moves both his hands back to Spike's waist and tugs Spike's t-shirt out of his pants. Spike releases his hold on Angel so the older man can pull the shirt over his head. The small pause is long enough for Spike to formulate his next move, which is to grab the front of Angel's button up and release the top few buttons, then lift it over Angel's head. Angel is wearing a sleeveless undershirt this time, so Spike takes a moment to run his hands along Angel's broad shoulders and down his arms, admiring the thick musculature. Angel turns his hands as Spike reaches his wrists to turn the tables and grasp Spike's wrists, then up his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest to his stomach. He lingers here on the cords of muscle, rubbing his thumbs across each abdominal, finally reaching the lower ones and hooking his fingers into the waist of Spike's jeans to pull him closer again.</p><p>Angel's head is down and on Spike's chest in a second, tracing each pectoral from collarbone to nipple, playing his tongue gently against each one. Spike's hands go to his head again, gripping him around the back, tugging lightly on Angel's hair with each flick of the tongue, resisting the urge to push Angel's head toward his cock, relishing this treatment, not something some women think of. He's had a couple that knew how sensitive a man's nipples could be, but not many. Angel, on the other hand, seems to know on instinct how to stimulate Spike, hitting the erogenous zones of his neck and chest. Finally, when he can't take any more teasing, he releases Angel's head and puts his hands on the other man's shoulders, applying pressure to get his attention. Angel looks up at him with questioning eyes.</p><p>“Bed.”</p><p>Angel clears his throat, lifts his head, and nods. Spike grabs both his hands and begins backing up toward the bedroom. Angel knows there's a table there, so he closes the distance and grabs Spike around the waist, lifting him and twirling to avoid the table. Spike's facing the bedroom now, a somewhat shocked expression on his face. Angel grabs his hand and turns around, leading Spike to the bed. When they get there, Angel sits on the end and kicks off his shoes. Spike closes the distance again and, still standing, reaches down to tug Angel's t-shirt off.</p><p>Angel yanks Spike to him once more by the waistband of his jeans until he's standing between Angel's spread legs, calves hitting the end of the bed right near Angel's crotch. Wanting to see more of him, Angel uses one hand to undo Spike's button while using the other to pull the zipper down. He pushes down at Spike's hips, stopping when the top of his hair is visible and just the tip of his cock is poking out. <em>I am so glad he doesn't wear underwear.</em></p><p>Angel leans forward and starts kissing muscle again, left to right and back again, slowly working his way down to Spike's hair, burying his nose there and taking a deep whiff, his chin bumping into the exposed cock head. Spike's hands are on Angel's head and all he can do is stare, too rocked for words, knowing how close Angel's mouth is to his engorged cock, feeling the brush of his chin against him. <em>Guess once you break Angel's sexual resistance, you <strong>really</strong> break his resistance to anything sexual. At least I hope. Really need his mouth, now.</em></p><p>“Angel, I need..I need...”</p><p>“Tell me. I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you say it.”</p><p>Spike inhales a sudden, deep breath, a gasp of surprise and desire. The last of his own inhibitions disappear with Angel's words.</p><p>“Need your mouth on my cock. Dreamt about it. Came in the shower I don't know how many times imagining it was you, not my hand.”</p><p>Angel lets out a gasp himself and reaches for Spike's jeans again, tugging them down a little more until he can pull Spike's dick out without scraping it against the zipper. He looks at it, standing out proudly from Spike's body, resting in his hand. He remembers what it felt like when he was drunk and he knows it feels ten times better without his senses dulled. Spike's fingers are tightening on his hair already. He's always enjoyed it when lovers grabbed his hair, but something about the way Spike tugs is perfect in a way he can't name. <em>Now, to just figure out how to do this properly. I feel like a damn virgin. Guess for this, I am</em>. He looks back up at Spike and sees his eyes are glazed over, full of raw need.</p><p>“You, uh...you tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong, okay? I've never done this before and I want to make it right for you.”</p><p>Spike's mouth drops open slightly and all he can do is nod. Words aren't usually a problem for him, but something about sex with Angel seems to turn him primal and wordless at points. Angel bends forward and Spike's cock twitches in anticipation. Those lips, those lips that have thrown countless insults at him, start at the base with sweet sucking kisses, wet and perfect. Spike groans and Angel smiles against him. He continues to kiss up and down the shaft, avoiding the head and foreskin. It's driving Spike just a little mad, watching Angel with his cock in hand, kissing it like he can't get enough.</p><p>“Ungh...can't take no more. Need you on the head. Put your lips on the knob. Lick my foreskin up.”</p><p>Angel nods and runs his tongue from where he's at mid-shaft on the underside, up to the mushroom cap beginning to peak through the foreskin. Spike quakes and barely manages to keep from jolting his hips forward. Angel kisses the tip lightly, teasing. Then he moves his lips around the tip, moves his tongue out the lick between the foreskin and the head, slowly pushing against the foreskin to get it to roll up. Once it is, he opens his mouth and sucks just the head in. Spike lets out a keening sound and jerks forward slightly into Angel's mouth, moving the foreskin past those lips, trying to control himself from pulling Angel's head toward him.</p><p>Angel's trying to wrap his lips around his teeth, knowing what it feels like when they scrape too hard against such sensitive skin. He puts a hand on Spike's hip and pushes slightly. Spike forces himself to pull back, giving Angel the chance to pull off enough that he can open his mouth to move his lips into a better position. Once they are, he moves forward again, taking more of Spike's shaft into his mouth this time, pressing his tongue up against the glans. Spike begins a slow rocking motion and moves a hand from Angel's head to wrap around the base of his cock, making sure he's not shoving too far into Angel's mouth. <em>Next time we do this, I'll see how deep he can take me. Don't wanna push him too far the first time.</em> Vampires don't have a gag reflex, so he knows from experience with Dru that deep-throating is well within the realm of possibilities.</p><p>Angel, for his part, is enjoying the taste of Spike's precome, noting its similarities and differences from blood. No copper taste, salty in the same way and with a slightly bitter tang. He starts actually sucking a little, applying more pressure as Spike moves in and out. He begins to move his head with him, pulling off as Spike pulls back, sucking down as Spike moves in, establishing a rhythm. It doesn't feel as natural as the pumping of hips, but he's sure that's just a matter of experience. <em>God, tell me we get to do this again. I like this more than I imagined I could.</em></p><p>It's not long before Spike's rhythm starts to speed up and Angel gives up trying to pace him, just applying pressure with his tongue and sucking in as Spike fucks his mouth. Spike's pumps become jerky and on one hard thrust he comes, not able to be quiet about it. Angel tries to swallow it all down, but he's a little too inexperienced to manage it and some dribbles out and down his chin. Spike pulls out and looks down, pupils dilated with gold and yellow beginning to fleck throughout the blue irises. Angel goes to wipe off his chin, but Spike stops him and leans over, licks up Angel's chin and shoves his tongue in Angel's mouth, effectively making it possible for Angel to swallow a tiny bit more come along with Spike's smoke flavored saliva.</p><p>Spike pulls back and looks Angel in the eyes, seeing how sincere the desire there really is. He reaches down and rubs the heel of his palm against Angel's swollen cock, still trapped in casual business trousers. Angel closes his eyes and grinds out, “Spike. Jesus.” Spike moves his hands up to Angel's shoulders and pushes him back onto the bed. Angel's trousers and underwear are unbuttoned, unzipped and shoved down past his knees faster than he would have thought possible. <em>I'm not even sure Darla ever moved that fast</em> is his last coherent thought before Spike, having fully removed Angel's pants, gets on his knees between Angel's legs, brings his head down and kisses the tip of his cock. Angel jerks his hips up.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>“Planning on it. Never done this, either. You better keep it together enough to tell me what you need.”</p><p>Angel lifts himself onto his elbows to try to clear his head and look at Spike to gauge his mood. The little shit winks at him. “I'm not...not sure I can. I'm so fucking hard and ready right now, you'd have to bite it off for me to complain.”</p><p>“Ain't gonna injure you. Need that cock for other things in the future.”</p><p>The promise in that comment makes Angel groan and lay his head back on the bed with a thump. Spike chuckles wickedly and brings his head back down and licks in one smooth motion from Angel's balls up to the tip of the head. Angel moans loudly. His foreskin has already pulled down, but that doesn't stop Spike from trying to push his tongue against it to hit the nerves he well knows are there. Angel's already panting and making tiny thrusts. <em>He's not going to last long. Good. Can take the piss out of him about it later.</em></p><p>Spike takes the bottom of Angel's shaft in hand, like he'd done to his own, and experimentally sucks the tip into his mouth. “Oh God. Spike.” <em>Just somethin' about hearin' my name during sex that fills me with joy. Swear he already knows what I like.</em> He lowers his head further, taking more of Angel's cock into his mouth than Angel did his. Angel's hands grip the sheet and he thrusts up too quickly. Spike would have choked if he were human. As it was, it was just a little uncomfortable against his throat. He pulls off rapidly.</p><p>“Easy there, Peaches.”</p><p>“S..sor-ry. Feels so...good.”</p><p>“Just..slow, yeah?”</p><p>“I'll...uhn...I'll try. I usually have much better control. No promises.”</p><p>“One way to make sure, then.”</p><p>Spike takes both hands and places them on top of either side of Angel's pelvic bone, right where it meets his hips. He brings his head back down to Angel's cock and goes down as far as he had when Angel thrust up. Sure enough, Angel's hips jerk, but Spike holds him down. Angel groans loudly at the treatment.</p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p>In between gasps: “Fuck you.”</p><p>In a low, sultry voice, Spike answers, “Later. I promise.”</p><p>Angel rushes out, almost all in one big breath, “I'm going to come the next time you suck me in and I'm not going to give you a warning.”</p><p>Spike gives out another low chuckle, somehow sounding even more dangerously sultry to Angel's ears than his words had been. Angel knows he's screwed; he'll never be able to hear Spike's laugh again without thinking about sex. <em>Just like when he laughed into that kiss. When the hell did the man's laughter start to turn me on?</em></p><p>Spike lowers his head again, but instead of taking Angel into his mouth, he starts to lick and kiss the shaft, much as Angel had done to him, still holding Angel's hips to the bed. Precome is leaking copiously from the head of Angel's cock, giving Spike an idea. He once again licks from Angel's balls up to his cap, but this time he doesn't stop as he licks across the slit. Instead, he licks across the slit again and again as Angel starts panting heavily. He probes into it with his tongue and Angel's dick starts jerking on it's own. Spike once again pushes his mouth around the head, but before he can get to the shaft, Angel's coming in his mouth. He doesn't really care for the taste of it, but this is Angel and that makes him eager to keep sucking the tip and swallowing it down. Unlike Angel, he doesn't miss a drop, but it's a near thing.</p><p>When the orgasm is finished, Spike pulls off Angel's cock while still sucking, making a small popping sound. It's much sexier than it should be. He lays his head down on Angel's thigh, still holding his hips, just not as tightly. Angel's hand comes down to Spike's head and he starts to comb his fingers through Spike's hair, loosening the gel. He looks down and sees, with surprise, Spike's hair is still a little curly when it's not slicked back. He's not sure why, but this makes him happy. Spike finally shifts and gets up, shoving his jeans down to his boots. He hops around to the side of the bed and sits near Angel's head to undo his laces. He pulls off boots, socks and jeans in one motion.</p><p>Angel has rolled onto his side and is watching Spike undress. His eyebrows scrunch up.</p><p>“You knew I was going to say yes. You wore looser clothes. Easier to get off clothes.”</p><p>Spike turns a bit to look at him. “Was hoping. Didn't know.”</p><p>“You are shameless.”</p><p>“Nah. Just really like sex and it's really good with you and we haven't even gotten to the main act yet.”</p><p>“I suddenly feel used.”</p><p>“We just used each other, Angel. Not as big a deal as you're gonna make it out to be.”</p><p>“I'm not 'gonna make it out to be' anything, Spike!”</p><p>“Don't blow your load. Save it for later.”</p><p>“You little...gah! Why the hell am I so attracted to what used to annoy the hell out of me? Still annoys the hell out of me.”</p><p>“You're very welcome, pet.”</p><p>Angel rolls back onto his back and covers his face with both hands as he groans into them. Spike, for some reason, finds this adorable. <em>When did I start thinking anything about Angel could be adorable?</em> He lays back on the bed, his side brushing the top of Angel's head. Without thinking, he brings a hand down and grabs one of Angel's off his face, brings it up to his chest and holds it. Angel lowers his other hand and tries to roll his head back to look at Spike to figure out what he's thinking. The position is all wrong and he can't look at him this way, and for some reason seeing Spike right now feels really important. He wrests his hand back from Spike and sits up, then turns around and looks at him.</p><p>Spike is staring at Angel, trying to figure out if this really had been a good idea after all. It felt right at the time, but now he's wondering if Angel really regrets it, just like he regretted it before. He sits back up, still looking at him. They stay like this for a few seconds, just looking at each other, trying to figure out what the other is thinking. Finally, Spike, of course, is the one to break the silence. He doesn't even try to hide what he's thinking.</p><p>“You're already regretting it again, aren't you?”</p><p>“What? No! This was...this was good. We're good together like this. I just don't know what it means.”</p><p>“Why's it gotta mean somethin'? We get along friendlier. We get along in bed, too, seems like. Should be enough.”</p><p>“You just don't want to think about it. It bears thinking about, Spike.”</p><p>“You call me idiot all the time; you know how much I hate thinking through stuff. Feel my way through it. S'done me good so far.”</p><p>“So...right. I'll think about it. That's something I actually do.”</p><p>“Bloody hell. I think about stuff all the time. I just don't like to. End up goin' in circles in my head. Ain't worth it when I can just follow my instincts where they lead me. There's a reason you brood over the whole soul thing and I don't.”</p><p>“Oh, please.”</p><p>“Angel...can we just let it be? This works. Why can't we just let it be?”</p><p>Angel runs his hands through his hair and looks Spike over. <em>He's sitting naked on my bed, pretty much asking me to just go with it and not think about the consequences. He's sitting naked on my bed. He's naked on my bed. Spike is naked in my bed. Shit. I actually do want this. He's right. I should just be able to let it be, shouldn't I? Why can't I? Why does it feel like there's something important here we're both not thinking about? Shit, shit, shit.</em></p><p>“Okay, look: I'm not capable of not thinking about things, just like you're not capable of ignoring your instincts. I'm going to 'let it be' for now, but don't get mad at me if I need to talk about it later.”</p><p>“Fine, fine. Not promising anything, though. You come at me with thoughts I don't want to hear and I'm gonna be pissed off. Can we talk about somethin', anythin' else, now?”</p><p>Angel looks at Spike's face, which the younger vampire has made unreadable again. He can't stand the idea of Spike closing off like that anymore. He reaches out with one hand to touch Spike's cheek, runs his thumb along the sharp bone, admiring the line of it. Spike closes his eyes, but still doesn't relax his features. Angel leans across the bed and kisses him. Spike's slow to return the pressure of his lips, but when he does, Angel pulls back for just a moment. Spike's eyes fly wide open, but Angel finally sees the sincerity he was looking for, so he starts the kiss again. It lasts a long time before they both pull away. Angel tilts his head a little and smiles at Spike.</p><p>“You told me not to blow my load, save it for later. You also said something about a main act.”</p><p>“Yeah, so?”</p><p>“Is it later yet?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Angel clears his throat and speaks closer to his regular tone. “You act like you've done this before.” <i>And why does that thought make me jealous?</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think it'll take about two more chapters to get these idiots to wake up to what's going on. </p><p>Meanwhile,  have some more porn.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is it later yet?”</p><p>Spike's eyes go wide for a second before he reigns himself in. “Well, yeah, if we say it is.”</p><p>Angel gets up on his knees on the bed and puts a hand out to Spike. “It's later.”</p><p>Spike takes Angel's hand and gets on his knees, scooting over until he and Angel are facing each other. He brings a hand up to the back of Angel's head and pulls him forward into another long kiss. It's not long before their hands are running up and down each other's bodies, exploring all the bits they've been too impatient to explore before. Angel's hands keep lingering over Spike's ass, rubbing and gripping, enjoying the feel of the thick muscle there, the smooth skin and curve. Spike's hands keep going to Angel's hair, tugging slightly to get that little gasp with a small sound from the back of his throat. From there, it's rubbing along his shoulders, enjoying how broad and strong they are.</p><p>His arms are wrapped around Angel's neck when the other man dips him back a bit, licking his collarbone down to his sternum, bending to reach the lowest point, which makes Spike's hands go back to Angel's shoulders to hang on to him. While one of Angel's hands is gripping Spike's side, keeping him from falling back, the other finds the crease of his ass and begins to rub there, fingers grazing lightly over his hole and the sensitive flesh between there and Spike's sack. He puts one finger at Spike's entrance and rubs a little harder, hitting the nerves around his pucker. Spike lets out a little keening sound, wanting Angel to go further. Angel straightens them both and says, barely above a whisper, “You want my cock, don't you William?”</p><p>“God, yes.”</p><p>Angel clears his throat and speaks closer to his regular tone. “You act like you've done this before.” <em>And why does that thought make me jealous?</em></p><p>Spike has to clear his own throat before answering, “Dru. Strap on. I like the feel of it.” <em>I'm sure the hell not letting him know that Dru left the strap on and I had Buffy try a go at my ass. Girl seemed to like the power over me. Made me feel powerful, too, having that affect on her.</em></p><p>Angel throat is suddenly very tight and he swallows hard. “Lie down on your back.”</p><p>Spike complies, putting his knees up and spreading his legs. His cock stands upright. Angel moves between his legs. He uses both hands this time, one rubbing up Spike's ball sack to his dick, stroking quickly up the shaft to the head which is already peeking out from the foreskin, and the other stroking downwards, two fingers on the perineum, gliding and pushing lightly, one finger circling around the puckering of his hole. Spike shifts his hips to the motions, pushing up into Angel's hand on his cock, down again against the fingers teasing his rim. His head is thrown back, eyes shut, and uncontrollable moans are escaping his mouth.</p><p>Angel knows from experience with Darla that lube and prep is necessary, not that Angelus would have bothered if Darla hadn't attacked him for trying it raw. He stops for a moment to lean over Spike to the bedstand. Spike opens his eyes and lets out a frustrated sound, but he's calm the moment he sees the bottle of slick in Angel's hand. <em>Must wank more often than I would have thought the Big Brood could.</em> Angel squeezes out a small drop and spreads it around Spike's cock, earning him another gratifying moan. He puts a bigger drop on his index and middle finger and brings them down to Spike's hole. He rubs around the puckering with his middle finger and then slowly works his pointer into the opening. <em>Jesus fuck he's tight.</em></p><p>Spike is breathing, something Angel has already noticed he does when he's really worked up. He's clenching around Angel's finger and Angel knows he needs to loosen up. He brings one hand back to Spike's prick, not stroking, just holding lightly, caressing with his fingers, trying to soothe him with softer pleasure. Spike puts one hand, balled in a tight fist, up to his mouth, and brings his other hand down to join Angel's on his cock.</p><p><em>His fingers are so bloody big and his cock is thicker than any dildo I've ever had. Don't know how I'm gonna fit him, but I want to so badly.</em> Angel's finger has stopped moving inside him and Spike forces himself to unclench, wanting that motion. With both of them still touching his cock, but no longer moving, Angel starts to circle his forefinger, then hooks it a little to provide more friction. Spike rewards him with a low hum and lowering his fist from his mouth back to the bed, grabbing the blanket. He pushes his ass down minutely, taking Angel's finger all the way in. Angel's sure he's ready now, so he slowly inserts his middle finger and starts scissoring and moving in and out. Spike's panting and pushing against him, his cock jumping in their hands as it leaks.</p><p>Angel moves his hand from Spike's cock to his thigh, sliding up to the bent knee and pushing the leg up. Spike does the same on the other side, raising his ass for better access. Angel takes his hand from Spike's thigh and Spike grabs it, opening himself further. Angel slides his fingers out and Spike grunts in protest, a look of disappointment on his face. “Relax, Spike. I'm getting more lube for you.” Angel squirts a large amount into his palm and rubs his own very hard cock with it, then uses the excess to push both fingers at once into Spike's hole, getting him as wet as possible. Spike's eyes squeeze shut again as he breathes out, “Bloody hell. Yes. Oh god, please.” Angel accepts the invitation wholeheartedly, removing his fingers once more and lining his cock up with Spike's flexing opening.</p><p>When he drives home, it's slow and gentle, something Spike's never experienced. He cries out Angel's name, unable to think beyond that one word and all the sensation Angel's thick cock makes him experience. Angel is momentarily in the same state, enjoying how tight Spike is. They're vampires, and a rough fuck is the norm, but they're also souled and that makes this, this kind of slow, reciprocal sex possible. Once more, Angel is thankful for the curse that brought him to this point, thankful Spike was so desperate for Buffy he went and got his own soul.</p><p>Spike puts his feet up behind Angel's back, letting go of his legs, reaching out his arms. Angel lowers himself, forearms either side of Spike's head, letting Spike cross his legs around him, tilting his ass into the right position, circling his arms around Angel. They're on level to kiss again and Angel doesn't hesitate. As he moves out and back in experimentally, Spike cries into the kiss, a sound Angel wouldn't mind hearing many more times. He shifts slightly over Spike, still deep inside him and Spike lets out a strangled moan, different from before. Angel gathers himself so he can use words.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>Spike's panting, trying to speak, but finding it near impossible. He finally gets out, “Sweet spot.”</p><p>Angel suddenly grins, remembering what it was like to have Darla finger him there. He pulls out a bit, making sure he's rubbing that spot and then pushes back in, harder this time. The sound Spike lets out is desperate and needy and he arches up against Angel. Angel brings his lips back to Spike's, dives his tongue into the younger vampire's mouth and begins pumping in earnest, moving his tongue in sync to his thrusts much as Spike had done when they were drunk. He's graced with moan after moan into the kiss, increasing the pleasure radiating from his cock.</p><p>Spike is pushing back against Angel with lips, tongue and ass, his cock trapped between them rubbing against Angel's stomach, profusely leaking. Angel, knowing it's selfish not to, shifts more of his weight to one arm and moves to the side enough to get his other arm between them, hand around Spike's cock. He begins stroking that overstimulated member in time to his thrusts. Spike's overwhelmed by sensation: the feel of his arms and legs around Angel, the thrusts of Angel's dick and tongue, the strokes of Angel's hand on his cock. Spike's body bows beneath the larger man and he cries out Angel's name as he comes. Angel moves his hand from between them and, bracing himself, starts pumping harder and faster, relishing grunt after grunt coming from Spike on each inward thrust. He freezes and says Spike's name as he feels his orgasm beginning, then stutters his movements into Spike, coming copiously into the blond.</p><p>Spike, physically and emotionally exhausted, lets his arms fall to the bed and puts his legs down, knees bent and still spread wide. Angel, staying inside him, collapses over him and they both grunt at the impact. After several minutes, Spike turns his head toward Angel and manages to get out, “Well, that was bloody brilliant. No way that's a one off. Right?”</p><p>Angel lifts up his head to look at him, seeing a vulnerability which Spike, in his post-coital state, can't completely disguise. He brings a hand to the side of Spike's head, stroking his sweat soaked hair, tucking the freed curls behind his ear. The tenderness is unexpected, for both of them. Angel clears his throat, wondering at the frog caught there.</p><p>“Right. Definitely not the only time.”</p><p>Angel puts his head back down, still looking at Spike. Spike closes his eyes, but brings one of his hands to Angel's back, just resting there. His face looks years younger when it's this relaxed, all traces of cynicism erased from a nearly angelic visage. Angel wonders for a second if his own name wouldn't have been better applied to Spike: Angelus, the vampire with the face of an angel. He closes his eyes and just basks in the feeling of lying on top of Spike, his deflating cock sliding out of the blond's ass. Spike, without opening his eyes, grimaces slightly at the sensation of cold cum dripping from his stretched hole. It's somewhat sexy, but also a little gross. There's a wet spot beginning to develop under his ass and he suddenly realizes why girls complain about having to lie in one.</p><p>He opens his eyes to look at Angel, who has closed his. “Hey, you ain't fallin' asleep, are you?”</p><p>Angel answers without opening his eyes. “A little. We both just climaxed twice in the matter of what, an hour? Kind of tired, Spike.”</p><p>“Me too, but a shower wouldn't go over bad. 'M not wantin' to wake all sticky.”</p><p>Angel opens his eyes to meet startling blue ones looking at him in slight irritation. “I suppose you have a point. Too tired to wait my turn, though.”</p><p>“Who said anythin' 'bout you waiting? We're gettin' in together.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, when you put it like that...” Angel lifts himself reluctantly off Spike, not having noticed until just then how much he <strong>wants</strong> to fall asleep with Spike snuggled beneath him. He shoves the thought to the back of his head for further examination later, along with the rest of the thoughts about this whole situation that he needs to consider. <em>Spike's going to accuse me of being a 'maudlinly brood' again. Wait. He says 'maudly' not 'maudlinly'. Is that an old cockney thing he copied when he changed his accent and started talking lower class? He's so weird sometimes.</em> It suddenly occurrs to Angel, as they walk to the bathroom, that at certain points, when he talks quieter or more gently, Spike's old upperclass Londoner accent comes out. It's also there when he calls Angel's name in bed. Since he and Angel didn't really talk to each other softly before they became friends <em>(and now we're more than friends)</em>, Angel has never had a chance to perceive the change.</p><p>He lets Spike step in the shower and adjust it to his liking. Angel steps in behind him and is glad to discover Spike likes it just as near boiling hot as he does. <em>Probably has something to do with it feeling better to someone who's cold all the time.</em> When Spike goes to grab the bar of soap, Angel takes it out of his hand and starts to rub it against Spike's back, letting the water and friction lather him up. He sets the bar down and steps closer to Spike and starts to wipe the lather in circles across Spike's back, enjoying the feel of muscles rippling under his hands. Spike leans his head back onto Angel and Angel closes most of the distance between them. He brings his hands around to the front, first rubbing the bar on Spike's chest, then setting it down again to caress the soap across Spikes pectorals, then under his arms, then down his stomach.</p><p>When he gets to Spike's pubic hair, all the bubbles have dissipated, so he brings the bar down again, and watches over Spike's shoulder as his curlies make a thicker lather of the soap. He doen't want to reach up again right now, so he drops the soap and starts to run his hands through Spike's pubes, watching as the other vampire's member begins to engorge. He circles one arm around Spike's lower abs and puts his other hand on the shaft. With the lubrication of soap and water he's able to stroke it swiftly without worry of chafing the younger man. It takes maybe three pulls before Spike is fully hard, reaching his arms up around Angel's neck and rocking his pelvis back so the lower portion of Angel's hardening cock nestles against the top of Spikes cleft, the rest of his length along the curve of Spike's lower back. The ten centimeters of height between them make the position perfect.</p><p>And then Angel dips down and up, working his cock between Spike's buttocks. The water alone makes it a little difficult, wet skin catching, but he's already dropped the bar of soap. He switches hands on the younger man's cock so he can grab the shampoo bottle. “Tilt forward.” Spike does, putting both hands on the tile in front of him for balance, body now half bent. Angel pours the shampoo directly on Spike's head and sets the bottle down, rubbing the product into Spike's hair and then down his back until finally getting to where his cock is held between Spike's cheeks. He rolls his body back until just his tip touches Spike, right above his hole. He bends over a little himself so he doesn't have to let go of Spike's shaft. He pours more shampoo between them, sets down the bottle and begins to move his cock between Spike's butt cheeks. He never lets go of the younger vampire's cock, but has to shorten his strokes to keep his arm in position.</p><p>The younger man lets a out a groan that sounds incredibly frustrated and Angel smiles wide, knowing what Spike is trying to wordlessly tell him. Part of him, the part that actually <strong>likes</strong> getting under Spike's skin as much as Spike gets under his, is tempted to prolong his wait and stick to external friction for a while, but he wants back inside of him too much. He lets go of Spike's cock and the younger man immediately brings one of his own hands down to grip himself, stroking as fast as Angel had been going. The water streams off both their bodies, making the whole thing feel as if they were under a waterfall. Angel was already holding Spike's hips to make another few outside thrusts, but now he pushes the tip of his cock into Spike, the hole already a little open from earlier. Spike gasps, water running into his mouth.</p><p>Angel smiles again and shoves all the way in, quick and hard. Spike growls a little, sounding more like a kitten than a lion. Angel smacks one of Spike's ass cheeks. “Behave or I pull out.” Spike once again groans in frustration. When he mumbles something, though, he sounds more turned on than angry. “Repeat that so I can hear it or I won't move again.” Spike grunts and shoves himself back against Angel a little harder, as if he could take more of him in. “Said: bloody controlling Irish bastard.” Angel chuckles, not at all insulted. The sound makes Spike shove back again, clenching tight around his cock. It's Angel's turn to groan in frustration. “You little...”</p><p>He starts moving again, faster than before, with more force, making sure to angle himself to grind against Spike's prostate. Spike cries out, takes his hand off his cock and puts it back on the tile to brace himself more fully. He actually lets Angel take control, not bothering to even try moving again. “God, Angel, fuck, yes!” Each rough slide is more unbearably hot than the last and suddenly, Spike's coming, spasming around Angel's cock, making Angel pour into him with short, sharp thrusts. When they both finish, he lowers his upper half against Spike, putting short, sweet kisses across the other man's shoulder blades. Spike is frozen in place, trying to process what just happened. <em>Never bloody come without somethin' around my cock before, hand, cunny or arsehole. That was fucking blinding.</em></p><p>Angel finally straightens, and pulls out, taking a washcloth to clean Spike's hole, cleft and legs, assisting the running water. Spike is slow to straighten and when he does, he's still facing toward the showerhead, not Angel. Angel's slightly concerned at the silence.</p><p>“Was that...did I...”</p><p>Spike shakes his head. “Nah, mate. Just never shot that way before, nothin' touchin' my cock. Was...intense in a very different way.”</p><p>Angel almost sighs in relief. Then what Spike's said sinks in. <em>Darla used to get me to come that way just using her finger. Has no one ever really gotten him to that point, as much as he seems to like being topped?</em> He feels a small stab of pride and something else, that same warm feeling in his chest he still can't explain when it comes to Spike. Also, the flip in his stomach. <em>What the hell is he doing to me? </em>Spike finally turns around and goes to Angel, puts his arms on his shoulders, hands dangling behind, and kisses him slowly. Angel's arms automatically circle Spike, pulling him until they're in full body contact again. Angel can't get enough of Spike's mouth. <em>I think I could come from his kisses alone if he did it long enough.</em></p><p>Spike doesn't break off the kiss until the water starts to grow lukewarm. “'M toast. Could use a good kip.”</p><p>“We both should have been asleep a while ago. Also, sex.”</p><p>“Yeah. That'll do it.”</p><p>They step out of the shower and towel off, each glancing surreptitiously at the other, trying to guess what they're thinking. They head back into the bedroom and Spike looks down at his clothes by the side of the bed. He gulps and tries to put on his most unreadable expression, not knowing that Angel, who has always been somewhat good at reading him anyway, has learned quickly in the last five and a half months <em>(four of friendship and one and a half more of this, whatever this is)</em> to recognize when Spike's trying to close himself off.</p><p>“Well, suppose I should kit up and go, then.”</p><p>Angel, who is busy folding down the blanket and top sheet, looks up suddenly. He tries to think why what he's about to say is a bad idea, but can't seem to come up with the reason. “Why?”</p><p>Spike looks confused at the question. “Well, we both gotta sleep, right?”</p><p>Angel walks back over to him and takes Spike's face between his hands. Spike's looking at him with such wide eyes. “There's a bed right here, Spike.”</p><p>“Yeah, but--”</p><p>Angel interrupts him, “But nothing. Come lay down with me and go to sleep.” Angel turns around as if there's no negotiating what he's said and lies down, putting just his lower half under the covers, leaving them turned down. He looks expectantly at Spike. Spike gives himself a small shake and walks over to the bed and gets in. Angel pulls up the sheet and blanket and rolls toward Spike, putting one heavy arm and leg over him, burying his face in Spike's mess of damp curls, almost asleep already. Spike brings his free arm up to rest on Angel's arm and passes out faster than he'll be willing to admit when they wake up tonight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Figuring Out the Obvious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You bloody well left! You chose to end it. I didn't choose to end it. Puttin' on that amulet, I chose death without even knowin' it. And then I came back and she never...”</p>
<p>Angel suddenly does understand. And it makes him hurt for Spike in a way he can't begin to name...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, are you gonna go?”</p>
<p>They're all sitting in Angel's room, gathered around the table in the kitchenette. Gunn has demolished his shrimp lo mein, Spike's demolished his szechuan chicken and Anne is finished with her egg rolls, not having wanted more than that. Illyria has decided to try eating, just to see if she likes it and is lingering over her beef broccoli, still unsure. Angel, as usual, sticks to just his mug of blood. Spike gets up to put his and Angel's mugs in the sink, not sure how to answer Gunn's question. Buffy's wedding is in less than two weeks and he's been going back and forth on it in his mind for the last month. When his mind hasn't been preoccupied thinking about Angel. Which it has been preoccupied with a lot.</p>
<p>Angel looks at Spike's back, deliberately turned away from all of them and clears his throat.</p>
<p>“I'm going. Buffy is as much a huge part of our pasts as we are of hers. I think we owe it to her to go if she wants us there. Spike?”</p>
<p>Spike stays turned away, hands leaning on the counter. “'M not sure 'm ready to deal with Buffy.”</p>
<p>Anne shakes her head. “Well, you'd better decide quick. It's June, vacations are just ramping up and flights are going to be booked. You might end up wanting to go at the last minute and not have any way of getting there.”</p>
<p>“Nah, man, there's always Willow. He can call her up and get her to do her teleporting thing,”</p>
<p>Spike turns around and leans his backside against the counter, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, fingers splayed across his pelvic bones. He's got his shields in place and none of them can read him. Looking at Angel pointedly, he says, “Can't see myself doin' that, Charlie, but ya never know. Might hafta.”</p>
<p>“Spike--”</p>
<p>“We been over this, Angel. I'll know when I know.”</p>
<p>Anne looks between Angel and Spike, sensing the tension in the air, which has been present more often lately, even though they seem to be getting along better than ever. She shrugs her shoulders and gets up to put her container in the trash bin. “Well, it's up to you, of course, but I think you're missing a great opportunity for some closure if you don't go.”</p>
<p>“Don't need no bleedin' closure. Fancy shrink talk, anyway.”</p>
<p>Gunn huffs, clearly not believing Spike's nonchalance. He gets up and tosses his own container, standing by Anne's side. Illyria is still picking at her food, and says around a mouthful of broccoli, “I am unfamiliar with this 'fancy shrink talk'.”</p>
<p>Angel explains, “Shrink is a slang term, and not a very nice one, for psychologists and therapists. So, basically, closure is something they talk about in therapy. I'm kind of with Spike on this one. It's a lot of fancy talk for a pretty simple idea, one most people come to on their own without any help.”</p>
<p>Illyria finally pushes her container away, still half full. “And this idea would be?”</p>
<p>“You have to get over the past. You can't keep carrying it around with you like a burden.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that's rich, comin' from the Great Brood himself.”</p>
<p>Angel glares back at Spike. “Not the kind of past involving killing over a hundred thousand people, though. That's one a person should never get over.”</p>
<p>Spike flips two fingers up at him and stalks back over to the table to pick up Illyria's container to throw it away. She puts her hand out, however. “I do not believe I am finished. Eating is interesting. Somewhat enjoyable. I will keep this until later.”</p>
<p>Anne laughs. “You'll need to refrigerate it. It'll go bad if you don't, then it won't be so enjoyable. Just don't eat it cold; remember to reheat it. If you leave it in the fridge more than a few days, though, it'll go bad, too.”</p>
<p>Nodding very seriously, Illyria says, “There is a refrigeration unit in my rooms. I will put it there.” She gets up, box in hand and leaves Angel's suite.</p>
<p>Gunn and Anne look at each other and then Spike and Angel, who are glaring at each other, then back at each other. “Time to head out, I guess,” Gunn says quickly. “Anne and I are going to the shelter to check in before nightfall. You fangboys planning on demon hunting tonight?”</p>
<p>They say in unison, without taking eyes off each other, “No.”</p>
<p>“Right. Well. Not running interference, but try not to murder each other while I'm gone.” Gunn beats a hasty retreat, Anne close on his heels.</p>
<p>“You sod.”</p>
<p>“Spike--”</p>
<p>“You put me on the spot!”</p>
<p>“Well, damn it, you're going to have to figure it out sooner or later.”</p>
<p>“Then let me figure it out, you bloody rotter.”</p>
<p>“You're running out of time.”</p>
<p>“I'm not....I can't....I...it's hard, okay?!”</p>
<p>“It's not as if I don't understand, you know.”</p>
<p>“You <strong>don't</strong> understand.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. Not like she was the first person I truly loved since Liam loved his sister. Not like we both believed we were soulmates or anything!”</p>
<p>“You bloody well left! You chose to end it. I didn't choose to end it. Puttin' on that amulet, I chose death without even knowin' it. And then I came back and she never...”</p>
<p>Angel suddenly <strong>does</strong> understand. And it makes him hurt for Spike in a way he can't begin to name. Quietly, trying not to get lost in the pain in the other man's eyes, he says, “She invited you. You meant something to her. Maybe...maybe she figured it was you who didn't want to contact her? I mean, did you ever even try?”</p>
<p>“Got her number from Andrew. Picked up the phone dozens of times. Didn't know what to say. And then Illyria showed up, things started rampin' up to your big bloody apocalypse, and it seemed more important to stay and fight. Then, Italy and the damned Immortal. Thought she was better off without me. Then Hell A. Then come to find out she's in Scotland, knew I was alive, with you, and never even tried contacting me.”</p>
<p>“You heard Andrew. They thought, even knowing I hadn't lost my soul, that I'd joined Wolfram &amp; Hart's side. Maybe they thought you'd been corrupted, too. Maybe she didn't find out you were alive until later.”</p>
<p>“Too many maybes, Angel. It's goin' on four years, now. I'd done settled it in my head, decided we both were where we were meant to be. Then, she sends Willow with that bloody invite, and it's like all that time, all that comin' to terms with it, didn't mean a bleedin' thing.”</p>
<p>A flash of memory comes to Angel and he walks around the table to where Spike is standing.</p>
<p>“You said, when you were drunk, that you knew you and she weren't meant to be, even if you still loved her. You said it was like you and Dru, something in the past. I thought it was a hell of a mature sentiment. Are you not sure about that, anymore?”</p>
<p>Angel's got a lump in his throat, a fear he can't explain, like he's somehow on the verge of losing something very important. He's been putting dots together for the last month, trying to figure out what's bothering him over the whole 'situation' between him and Spike. They're friends again. They're also sleeping together, with Illyria being the only one who knows. Angel's heard the term 'friends with benefits,' but for some reason, that doesn't seem to apply to whatever is going on between the two of them. <em>Am I afraid we're going to fracture again, go back to hating each other, over this?</em></p>
<p>Angel has been looking directly at Spike, but Spike has been looking past Angel, like there's something over Angel's shoulder that's more important. He finally turns his blue eyes to meet Angel's brown ones and both of them are locked for a moment. Angel is the one to break the contact, looking down at Spike's collar, noticing the rips in the cotton. <em>He really needs some new shirts. I should let him use the credit card to get some. I can pay that off.</em> Spike clears his throat and Angel, fascinated by the way Spike's adam's apple moves as he does it, has to force himself to meet his eyes again, relief washing over him that the intensity of the previous stare seems to have dissipated.</p>
<p>“No, I'm sure. You're...aw hell.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Still can't say it.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I'm right.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I'm just afraid all these feelings are gonna get stirred up, ya know?”</p>
<p>“Trust me, I definitely know.”</p>
<p>“Also...there's, uhm...there's this.” He gestures between himself and Angel as he says 'this'.</p>
<p>Angel's a little shocked. He hadn't even thought about that being an issue. He's not sure it should be an issue. <em>Why should us sleeping together be an issue when no one knows about it?</em></p>
<p>As if reading Angel's thoughts, Spike rolls his eyes and says, “Not us shagging, you daft old bugger. Meant the friends part. Not sure how Buffy'll deal with it.”</p>
<p>“How did you know I was--”</p>
<p>“Was written all over those big doe eyes o' yours.”</p>
<p>Angel's not sure how to take that. Spike has always understood him well, but there have been enough massive misunderstandings over the years that he knows Spike doesn't exactly know his every thought. Obviously, he and Spike have gotten to know each other even better over the last few years and especially well over the last month. I<em> can name every one of his favorite sex positions at this point, for one thing. I've even let him top me once. That was...well, it was fantastic. No way am I letting him know</em> <em>how much I want to do that again.</em> Angel suddenly focuses his eyes back on Spike to see he's being grinned at. A very smug grin.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You were thinkin' about us shaggin', just now. Again.”</p>
<p>“You're insufferable at times, you know that?”</p>
<p>“Still don't stop you from wantin' to put it to me, though.”</p>
<p>Angel grabs him around the waist and pulls him against his body. Spike's hands immediately snake their way around his neck. “No, it really doesn't.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>They're sitting at a table by themselves at the reception when Willow and Dawn come over to sit down. Spike and Xander already had the prerequisite argument which Dawn broke up by telling them they were both being neanderthals and she could make her own decisions about who to date, thank you very much. Xander has stolen Buffy away from her new husband to dance with her to some raucous pop song, the inanity of which makes both Angel and Spike cringe.</p>
<p>“She's glad you came. She was really thinking you wouldn't,” Dawn says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, she came over after the ceremony, Nibblet. Let us know. Stunned her a bit, me and Angel gettin' on so friendly like.”</p>
<p>“Not as much as it shocked Xander, trust me. I think he still thinks of both of you as evil vampires.”</p>
<p>“Well, he's at least right about the vampire part. You guys haven't been evil for a while. Well, Angel, you haven't been evil for a while. It's only been five years for you, Spike. You know--”</p>
<p>“Willlow. You're starting to babble.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Dawnie. I've had a quite a bit of the bubbly. Makes me feel all zingy.”</p>
<p>“Giles has been throwing us glares all night,” Angel says, redirecting the conversation.</p>
<p>“Giles ain't never gonna take a shine to either of us. Angelus killed his girlfriend and I shagged his precious slayer while I was still evil.”</p>
<p>Angel winces when Spike mentions he 'shagged' Buffy. He's not sure if it's because it's Buffy or it's Spike, and that confuses him. He just glares at Spike and says, “We're Champions in the fight against evil. We're on his side.”</p>
<p>“We're vampires. Wesley's the only Watcher that woulda ever trusted us. And he's gone.”</p>
<p>“Ouch. Are you trying to tick me off?”</p>
<p>“Nah, but it'll be a nice benefit. We ain't had a good row in a while. Kinda miss it.”</p>
<p>Spike's giving him a 'come and get me' grin. Willow giggles a little. Dawn rolls her eyes, almost exactly the way her sister does. Angel grins back at Spike, but doesn't pick up the gauntlet in the way the girls think he will, though.</p>
<p>“We're not going to ruin Buffy's wedding memories, Spike. We can fight later, if you really want. I won't mind kicking your ass later.” His voice is pure mischief, the same as the glint in Spike's eyes.</p>
<p>Dawn suddenly chokes on the mouthful of champagne she's drinking, coughing a little out. Willow pats her on the back. “You okay, Dawnie?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, uh...I'm fine. Where's that girl you brought with you? Shouldn't you be entertaining your date?”</p>
<p>Willow looks agitated. “She got a little drunk and had to go throw up. I kinda left her doing her business in the toilet. Think I should go back?”</p>
<p>All three of them look at her and she gets the hint, “Alright, alright, I'll go check up on her...geez, it's not like she's my girlfriend. She's just a date.”</p>
<p>Dawn watches Willow walk away from the table and then turns toward Spike and Angel, leans back in her chair, crosses her arms and smiles at them. “So, you two really are getting along these days, aren't you?” There's something as mischievous in her tone as there was in Angel's.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Didn't seem to surprise you earlier, Bit.”</p>
<p>“Well, no, Willow told us all you were friends now. Xander and Buffy didn't believe her at first, but then she told us how you were joking with each other and they sorta accepted it skeptically. I figured Willow didn't have a reason to lie about something that outrageous.”</p>
<p>“Spike and me being friends is kind of outrageous. But, things change.”</p>
<p>“They sure do. So, how long have you two been sleeping together?”</p>
<p>Angel and Spike both stare at her in shock, jaws practically hitting the table. They start speaking at the same time.</p>
<p>“Nibblet!”</p>
<p>“Dawn!”</p>
<p>“We're not--”</p>
<p>“How'd you--”</p>
<p>They stop and look at each other, then back at her. She's got a huge smile on her face.</p>
<p>“I guessed. There was a certain chemistry going on. Wasn't sure, but you two both pretty much just confirmed it. You're dating, then?”</p>
<p>Angel coughs and looks down. Spike groans and plants his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“I wouldn't call it dating, Dawn. We just...it's like you said, there's a certain chemistry going on.”</p>
<p>Spike looks up suddenly at Dawn, “Bit, I swear, if you tell Buffy--”</p>
<p>“Relax, Spike. It'd blow her mind, I'm sure, and it's always fun to mess with my sister, but I have grown up quite a bit since you last saw me. I can tell it's not something you guys want people to know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Why do you think I sent Willow away?”</p>
<p>Angel nods at her in thanks. Spike looks at her in wonder. “Look at you. I almost forgot how clever you can be, pet.” Dawn smiles at him, but blushes at the compliment. She rocks forward and leans her arms on the table, looking first at Spike, then at Angel, obviously trying to figure something out.</p>
<p>“What,” they say in unison.</p>
<p>“It's not just sex. I mean, the way you put it, Angel, that seems to be what you both think. I don't know. There's something else. I can't put my finger on it, but it's there. Care to share?”</p>
<p>Spike and Angel look at each other, both obviously uncomfortable and confused. Dawn sighs and claps her palms against the table, rising. “Well, when you guys figure it out, make sure to call and tell me. And you, Mister,” she points at Spike, “the next time you die and come back to life and let everyone who cares about you keep thinking you're dead, I'm going to kill you myself.” She holds her arms out to him and he rises and gives her a hug.</p>
<p>When he sits back down, he looks over at Angel. The bigger man isn't meeting his eyes and Spike's almost glad of it. <em>She's given me somethin' to think about. Seein' as I hate thinkin' about stuff, I really oughta be mad at the Bit. Bloody hell.</em></p>
<p>The ride back to their hotel is in silence. The room is a double, since neither of them figured they'd want to have sex after Buffy's wedding, thinking it would be too awkward a juxtaposition. Spike sits down on one bed, Angel on the other, facing each other. Spike leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees and Angel copies him.</p>
<p>“Whatcha think she was on about, then?”</p>
<p>“I don't know, Spike. I mean, I told you I needed to think about things. I can't say I haven't had similar thoughts, that this is more than just sex. I just don't know what that 'more' is.”</p>
<p>“Right. That more oughta be friendship, ought'n it?</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, that's part of it.”</p>
<p>“But not all of it?”</p>
<p>“I don't know. What do you think?”</p>
<p>“Don't wanna think. 'Specially 'bout this, now. It's...it's too much just realizing how obvious we were to the Bit. She's always been perceptive, but that 'bout did me in.”</p>
<p>“Same. What were we doing?”</p>
<p>“Think we were flirtin', mate. Not like other people do, mind you, but like we do.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Spike?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Maybe we should get some sleep before our flight back.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, alright.”</p>
<p>They both fall asleep in their separate beds, but by the middle of the day, Spike has crawled into Angel's bed and they sleep the rest of the day curled up together.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It's nearly a week later when Spike wakes with a start in his own room, reaching over automatically for Angel, then remembers where he is. He stares up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks with his eyes. The dream had been a simple one, but disturbing. He and Angel were fighting a group of vamps in an alley. Normal. Then, they started to lose. Not normal. Spike turned to avoid a stake to the back, turning back just in time to see another vamp thrust a stake into Angel's heart. As he turned to dust, Spike sank to his knees and cried out. Then, another vamp had come up behind him and driven a stake through his own heart. It was what he thought as he turned to dust that made him wake up so suddenly: <em>Good. Now I don't have to live without him.</em> Spike curls his fists into the blanket and scrunches up his eyebrows, trying to figure it out. As the realization hits, it's like a freight train going through his chest, and he abruptly sits up.</p>
<p>“Bloody hell, Spike. What'd you go and do that for? Why's this always happen to me? Why do I always fall in love with someone who's never gonna love me back?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Fear of the Unkown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Spike and Angel both think too much and talk too little.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short chapter, which means the last chapter will be a long one.</p><p>Chapter title is a Siouxsie and the Banshees song, a favorite of mine.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angel shifts his hips a miniscule amount, aiming for Spike's sweet spot again. He's already made him come once. The other vampire is panting underneath him, eyes screwed tightly shut, lip bitten. He pushes hard in and out about four more times and Spike comes, crying out wordlessly. He picks up his pace, slamming in even harder. Spike has gone back to biting his lip, bringing his hips up to meet Angel with every pump. His eyes are still closed. Angel finally leans down and kisses Spike's neck, right where the pulse point would be and Spike's coming again, barely any spend left. The rhythmic spasming in his hole is almost more than Angel can bear, and he calls out Spike's name as he begins to come violently.</p><p>As he drifts back to reality, he lifts up on his arms, still inside Spike. He's admiring the line of bruises around Spike's collarbone where he's bitten him with blunt teeth when Spike finally speaks. “Can't believe you just did that.”</p><p>Angel grins down at him. “What? Oh, the whole forcing you to come three times in a row? How'd that feel, by the way?”</p><p>“You bloody well know how it feels. Know there's no way Darla didn't get Angelus to that point a few times. My balls hurt, you bastard.”</p><p>“I think that has more to do with me biting them. You didn't mind at the time.”</p><p>“Vampire, yeah? Like it rough.”</p><p>“Not always.”</p><p>“Was in the mood.”</p><p>“Kind of got that impression when you nearly tackled me as you came through the door.”</p><p>“You let the demon out. Heard your bones against my neck. You wanted to bite me with fangs out.”</p><p>Angel looks embarrassed. “I controlled it.”</p><p>“Don't.</p><p>“Don't what? Don't bite you? I didn't. Well, not with the fangs, at least.”</p><p>“Don't control it. Wanted it.”</p><p>Angel stares at him, mouth open. Blood drinking is usually something reserved for sire and sired. He and Darla would do it when the sex became extra intense, a way to assert dominance over each other. For Spike to say that he wanted it was a surprise. Angelus had acted as a sire to him, teaching him how to hunt and kill without being caught, but the fact was he hadn't sired William. He knows Spike enjoyed that sort of thing with Drusilla, letting her drink from him freely without returning the compliment very often, but Angel never would have thought he'd be okay with him going there.</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“'M sure.”</p><p>“I'll remember that and consider it permission for next time I'm wanting it, so don't get pissy with me when it happens.”</p><p>“Not plannin' on it.”</p><p>Angel finally draws out of Spike, watching the younger vampire wince slightly. They've been going for over an hour, Angel edging Spike on every time he was ready to come. <em>Bound to be some chafing</em>. Angel feels a bit chafed himself. He gets off of him, rolling over and flopping down next to him. Spike rolls over quickly, grabbing the washcloth from the bedside table, wipes himself and reaches for his jeans.</p><p>“Don't.”</p><p>“Angel--”</p><p>“Please, William. Stay.”</p><p>Ever since the trip to Scotland, the sex has become even more intense <em>(which I wouldn't have thought possible)</em>, but Spike leaves almost immediately after unless they shower together, then he leaves right after the shower, making one excuse or another. After a couple weeks, Angel has given up trying to figure it out and just accepted it, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it. This is the first time he's openly asked him to stay. Spike looks at him with a questioning expression. <em>It's almost as if he doesn't quite believe that I mean it, doesn't believe I actually want him to stay</em>. Angel meets his eyes steadily, infusing his gaze with as much sincerity and want as possible, trying to wordlessly assure the blond that he does, in fact, mean it.</p><p>Spike turns around on the bed and looks upward, but doesn't move to put on the jeans in his hand. <em>Can't. Don't trust myself to not get too attached again. Can't tell him why, either. I want too, though. Bugger. Fine</em>. He turns slightly to look at Angel and sees the older vampire looking at him with concern. He drops the jeans and lays back down next to Angel, hands resting on his own chest. Angel frowns and rolls over to land half on top of him, gripping his side tightly with his hand, using his leg to squeeze both of Spike's, his other arm resting under his own head, hand stroking the top of Spike's head, working the gel out of his hair.</p><p>“I don't suppose you're going to tell me what's wrong, are you?”</p><p>“Nothin's wrong.”</p><p>“Spike--”</p><p>“Drop it, Angel. Please.”</p><p>Spike doesn't say please to him very often, aside from sex, so when he does, Angel listens. He moves his head to rest his lips against Spike's shoulder and doesn't say anything more. <em>This change happened after the wedding. Is he scared someone other than Illyria is going to find out about us? He was pretty insistent with Dawn that she not tell Buffy. Is he ashamed of this? Why won't he talk to me? We talk all the time now, about everything from demons to memories to the weather, but this, this he won't talk about. There's this tension coming off him I wouldn't be able to cut with the sharpest knife</em>. Angel feels Spike's muscles relax under him and lifts his head to look at the blond's face, relieved to see Spike at least still seems to sleep easier with Angel covering him. He sits up to pull the covers over both of them, then lays back down, holding Spike tightly, his thoughts spinning as he drifts off into sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>That night, they face off against nearly twenty demons who are planning a sacrificial ceremony, going to kill thirty virgins. They made sure the girls thought it was a sex trafficking ring which had kidnapped them and Gunn called an anonymous tip into the police so they would find the girls in the abandoned building they were being kept in.</p><p>Now, it's nearly noon, and Angel sits in his living area, in the dark, tumbler of whiskey in one hand. Spike had gone to his own room nearly as soon as they returned to the hotel, without so much as a by your leave. Gunn had said something about Blondie Bear being grumpy lately. Illyria had looked over at Angel and tilted her head, saying, “I believe the two half-breeds are having an argument.” Angel had denied it and said he had no idea what the hell was wrong with Spike. At least it's the truth.</p><p>
  <em>He wouldn't even look at me when he woke up. He left so quickly, almost ran out the door. He said something as I was waking up, I know he did, but I was half-awake and didn't comprehend it. He was looking at me with so much sadness in his eyes it damn near broke my heart. He wouldn't repeat it when I asked him, said he'd just woken up himself and couldn't remember what it was he'd said. We usually shower together. I miss that. I miss the easiness we'd developed, still bickering at each other but not really meaning it. Now, it's as if he's walking on eggshells around me, trying not to disturb some hidden beast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It started after Buffy's wedding. Or did it? I mean, this whole situation between us has been odd since the beginning. I never could have imagined I'd want Spike this much. If you'd said as much to me a year ago, I'd have told you you were crazy. We were already getting along better a year ago, though. We've actually been getting along better since before Hell A. Losing Fred brought us closer, made us remember what's important. It just got slowly better after that, so slowly we didn't notice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So, was the friendship there before we talked on the roof? Yes, yes it was, we both just didn't want to acknowledge it. When did I start to care about him so much? The cave. He fell down that damn hole and didn't answer me when I called out to him. I'd thought he'd dusted. It scared the hell out of me, the thought that I'd lost him. Haven't been that scared since...since I came back from the ocean and thought I'd lost Cordelia. Cordelia. We were far more than friends. Just like Spike and I have become far more than friends. Why am I thinking about Spike in the same context as Cordy?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Holy shit. Oh god. I'm in love with Spike. That's the 'something more' I've been trying to figure out. Why has it taken me this long? Have I been in denial? Yes. Yes I have. Never, in a million years, did I see that one coming. That drunken night together: it was already there. The closer we became, the deeper it went. I'm never going to not love him. And now, he's closing himself off from me. I'm going to lose him and I don't even know why. I just now figured out I'm in love with him and I'm facing losing him. Does he want to end the arrangement we have and go back to being just friends? Can I do that? It's better than losing him. If it's what I have to do, I'll do it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But...Dawn didn't just look at me when she said there was something more. She looked at both of us. She's perceptive. She's really perceptive. Spike said she was the first one to figure out he was in love with Buffy. She didn't just see it in me; she saw it in him. Is he in love with me? I have no idea and I can't ask him for risk of losing him. I don't want to scare him away or inhibit him. I never want to experience that kind of inhibition with him again. So, what do I do then? Do I just ignore it and keep going the way we're going? Do I have another choice? No, there's no choice. I can't lose him. I just need to shove it onto the back burner and let it simmer on its own. The only thing I can do is try to make Spike comfortable with what we have, again. And, failing that, I'll just have to take his friendship in order to keep him with me.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>Spike immediately goes to his room and locks the door. He'd had a hard time not keeping a closer eye on Angel during the fight. He knows Angel can take care of himself, certainly doesn't need Spike playing protector over him. Every time they've fought since he had his epiphany, however, Spike's been terrified Angel is going to get dusted. <em>It's the dream, what done it. I wouldn't worry if I hadn't dreamed him getting staked, then figured out I love him just afte</em>r. He'd vowed to end the sexual part of their relationship the day of the dream, knowing he couldn't stand to be that close to Angel and be okay with the man not loving him back.</p><p>He just can't stay away, though. Angel also comes to his room on occasion, but Spike's bed is smaller, so he usually goes to Angel. He can't stand <strong>not</strong> to. <em>Know there's no way he's ever gonna love me back, but that don't mean I can just stop. Gotta be close to him somehow. Can't talk to him anymore without thinkin' 'bout how much it hurts. I can't not talk to him, though. Just gotta accept the pain. Used to that</em>. He's pacing his small room, wrapped up in his circular thoughts when a knock on the door startles him. He hadn't been paying attention, so he hadn't heard the footsteps. The knock comes again, then the doorknob rattles. He's kind of hoping it's Angel, kind of hoping it's not.</p><p>“I wish to speak with my pet.”</p><p>He takes a relieved breath and opens the door. “Sorry. Was all tied up in my noggin.”</p><p>Illyria steps into the room and closes the door behind her. “You are distracted.”</p><p>“Yeah, I am, Lyri. Sorry. Again.”</p><p>“You and the other half-breed are having some kind of disagreement, yes?”</p><p>“What? Nah. We're fine.”</p><p>“I feel fear, disappointment and desperation emanating from both of you. You have not ceased sexual relations, so I know it cannot be a lack of physical contact. I believed you were arguing over an important matter, yet you are not. I do not understand.”</p><p>“You're not the only one, pet.”</p><p>She looks at him intently for a moment before replying.</p><p>“You are both overly emotional when it comes to each other. You are engaging in sexual activity. You converse regularly on a variety of topics and each appear to enjoy the other's company. Your relationship would seem to be firmly established. What is there to fear? Why are you disappointed? Where does this desperation stem from?”</p><p>“Angel and I don't got a relationship. We got a friendship and we got sex. That's it. Don't want to talk 'bout it no more. Just wanna deal with it myself, okay?”</p><p>Illyria shakes her head and continues to stare at him. “Your confusion would seem to belie that assertion. I do not believe either of you should worry. Perhaps I am still confused on human emotions and motivations. I believed you loved each other. The amount of affection you both feel would seem to indicate this. Is it not so?”</p><p>Spike looks at her, pain welling up in his eyes. He bites back on the tears and says, “I meant it. Don't wanna talk no more.”</p><p>“Very well, vampire. I will leave you to your self-deliberations. I shall inquire with the other half-breed.”</p><p>“No! Don't bother 'em with it. Please. He ain't gonna get what you're on about.”</p><p>She looks at him archly. “I believe you are mistaken, but I will abide by your wishes. Again, it is in my best interest to see to the comfort of my pet to insure his continued service.”</p><p>“Ta, love. I need to rest now, 'kay?</p><p>Illyria nods and leaves the room. Spike sits down on the bed, then lies down, curled up in a fetal position, finally letting the tears flow. After a while, he drifts off into a fitful sleep. When he rises, he knows what he needs to do. <em>S'better this way.</em></p><p>***</p><p>“Any of y'all seen vampboy?”</p><p>Angel yells from his office, “I'm right here.”</p><p>Gunn says, “Not you. Spike. I went to get him and he wasn't there. He was supposed to take me with him to a poker game tonight.”</p><p>“I haven't seen him,” says Anne.</p><p>“My pet is no longer in the vicinity.”</p><p>“Damn. He must of gone without me.”</p><p>“How long of a distance was this game of yours? It would seem illogical to travel outside this locality for a game.”</p><p>Angel comes out of his office, looking at Illyria with concern.</p><p>“What do you mean, 'outside this locality'?”</p><p>“I do not sense him within a radius of one hundred and fifty kilometers. I can no longer stretch my senses, as I was once able, to much beyond that distance.”</p><p>Angel freezes and looks at her with disbelief. “Tell me you're kidding.”</p><p>“I do not joke. He left yesterday evening.”</p><p>Angel sits down with a thud on the receptionist's chair next to Anne. <em>Fuck.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chasing an Idiot Across the Country</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Spike has run away from his Angel problems. Angel has decided to not let him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it was getting to double the size it should be, so I split it in two. And I had a lot of trouble nailing Faith's voice, so sorry if she's ooc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angel sits down with a thud on the receptionist's chair next to Anne. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Anne and Gunn look at him with concern. Gunn speaks first. “So, Spike took off again. You alright, Angel?”</p><p>Angel just looks up at him without answering. <em>No, I'm not alright. I'm never going to be alright again.</em></p><p>Anne looks at Gunn then down at Angel. She decides to try. “Angel, are you alright?”</p><p>Angel looks at her, his expression blank. Then it changes to something close to anger. He rises and smacks his fist into his palm. “Damn it! This is my fault. I need to go find him.”</p><p>Gunn, surprised at the reaction, says, “What, did you two get in a huge argument without us knowing? Usually, everyone can hear those. And he usually doesn't leave just because of an argument.”</p><p>Angel looks over at him. “I can't explain it right now. I will, later. It's not an argument, just a huge misunderstanding. I need to fix it. He can't leave. I can't let him.”</p><p>Illyria speaks up. “I can assist with the direction he has taken. Beyond my radius of perception, however, you will have to track him yourself.”</p><p>“I'm a vampire and I know Spike's scent like the back of my hand. Tracking him won't be a problem as long as the scent is still fresh. Which means I need to go, now.”</p><p>“Woah there. What about the rest of us?”</p><p>“Stay here, Gunn. I have to do this alone. Illyria, come to the computer and show me on the map where he was when you lost track of him.”</p><p>Illyria follows Angel into his office while Gunn crosses to Anne's side. He looks at her, question obvious. She shrugs her shoulders at him. Angel comes storming out of his office, practically running out of the building. Gunn shakes his head in disbelief.</p><p>“You know what this is about, Illyria,” he asks.</p><p>“I have some idea, but I am not certain. My reasoning contains information I have been informed by my pet not to share with others. However, Angel did say he would explain later, so perhaps I may share.”</p><p>Anne shakes her head at her. “Best not. If Spike and Angel trusted you with a confidence, something they don't want us to know, it's probably not a good idea to tell us. Just...do you think he'll come back?”</p><p>Illyria tilts her head to the side, pondering. Finally, she responds, “I do not know. I believe I would be better off if he did, as Angel's pain at his leaving was most unpleasant. It is not something I wish to sense from him on a regular basis. Additionally, I would miss my pet. I do not like training alone and his company is agreeable to me.”</p><p>Gunn huffs a humorless laugh. “What do you know; tin girl's found her heart.”</p><p>***</p><p>Spike is just past Albuquerque when he has to stop for the day. He pulls the Viper over to the side of the road, once again glad he stole the thing from Wolfram &amp; Hart before the big fight. Necrotinted windows sure made traveling safer. <em>Now, if only it hadn't decided to get transmission issues, I'd've been gone the first time, before this mess got even bigger</em>. He's still asleep twelve hours later when he hears a rapping on the window. There's a policeman there tapping with his flashlight. Thankful it's dark, Spike rolls down the window.</p><p>“You alright, son?”</p><p>“Yeah. Was just knackered, s'all. Tired, I mean. Been a bloody hell of a couple months.”</p><p>“Sorry to hear it. It's not legal to park on the highway, though. Dangerous, too. You could turn around and head back into town to find a hotel, or there's a rest stop not too far up the road, but you can't stay parked here.”</p><p>“Got it. Thanks.”</p><p>“Where you headed?”</p><p>“Cleveland. Got business up there.”</p><p>“No drugs or weapons in the car I need to search for?”</p><p>“Not unless you count a broadsword and a switchblade. Got some pointy sticks, too.”</p><p>“Interesting choices. Out vampire hunting?”</p><p>Spike can tell, from the way the man smiles when he says it, that the cop's thought he's made a good joke. Grimacing inwardly, but smiling outwardly, he pretends to play along, “Vampires, demons, you know. The usual.”</p><p>The cop laughs and hangs his flashlight back on his belt. “You're good, son. Have a safe trip. Drive careful, now. Stop before you get tired, next time.”</p><p>“Got it.” <em>Pillock</em>.</p><p>***</p><p>Angel loses Spike's trail somewhere outside Albuquerque. <em>Which means he rolled the windows up. Probably daylight. That'd be about right. It's normally around eleven or twelve hours between here and Los Angeles. I only made it in eight because I was going way too fast. Lucky I didn't get pulled over. Question is, did he stop to sleep or did he keep driving? And where is he going? South, North, or toward the East coast?</em> He pulls over to the side of the road and gets out of the car, trying to scent anything that could possibly help him. The smell of exhaust fumes is too strong to be able to narrow it down to a single car. He can smell some kind of animal blood about fifty meters off the road. He turns around to see another car pulling up behind him. Then the spotlight comes on. <em>Great. At least he didn't catch me speeding.</em></p><p>The older officer approaches him hand on his gun, flashlight raised. “Everything alright here?”</p><p>“Yes. Sorry. I was looking for something on the side of the road.” <em>If I wasn't a vampire, I'd be blinded right now. Good tactic.</em></p><p>“Anything I can help you with?” He stays about four feet from Angel, well outside arm's reach, but close enough to lunge if he needs to. <em>He's been a cop a long time.</em></p><p>“I doubt it. It's going to sound funny, but I was looking for a trace of a friend of mine who might have come this way. Not sure what I was thinking about. Obviously thought I could find a needle in a haystack.”</p><p>“California plates. Second set of those I've seen on the side of the road since last night. Better not be running drugs, son.”</p><p>Angel's stomach jumps in hope. “You can search me and my car if you want, but I need to ask you something first if that's okay.”</p><p>The cop looks at him suspiciously, but lowers the flashlight. “And what would that be?”</p><p>“Was the other car a red Viper and was the guy driving it a bleached blond with an English accent? Because that's my friend and I'm looking for him. I really need to find him; it's very important.”</p><p>The officer's shoulders relax, he takes his hand off his gun and puts his flashlight back on his belt. “Yup to both. Had a good sense of humor, that one.”</p><p>“Was he okay?”</p><p>“Right as rain. Told him not to pull over to sleep on the side of the highway. He went on his way.”</p><p>“Did he say where?”</p><p>“Well, if he's your friend, shouldn't you know that?”</p><p>Angel searches for an answer for a second, anything to get the cop to tell him where Spike went. “His mom died. He's really upset. We're all worried about him. I just need to make sure he's alright.”</p><p>“Huh. He did say it'd been a rough couple months. Alright. He said he was headed to Cleveland. Said he had business there.”</p><p><em>Oh, thank God!</em> “Thank you, so much, officer. You have no idea what it means to me.”</p><p>The officer shakes his head. “Drive safe. No need to end up crashing just to get to him faster. Won't do either of you any good. Tell him I'm sorry to hear about his mom.”</p><p>“Will do. Thanks again.”</p><p>The officer waves him off as he walks back to his car, mumbling about “crazy Californians.” Angel practically hops in joy back to his car and has to remember to watch his speed while the police car is still behind him.</p><p>***</p><p>The girl throws Spike against the wall and comes at him with the stake again. Again, he blocks and kicks her away, not wanting to hurt her.</p><p>“I'm tellin' you, you stupid bint, I'm on your side!”</p><p>“All I saw was one vampire staking another. Doesn't mean anything to me other than you did half my work for me.”</p><p><em>Bloody hell</em>. “Rrrgh! I've got a bleedin' soul! I don't kill people anymore. I kill demons.”</p><p>“Yeah, right. And my name's Cardi B.” She rushes him again and gets a fist in his stomach while he's blocking her stake in the other hand.</p><p>“Oh, that's just about enough!” He stops playing nice and takes a real swing, knocking her in the nose. She stumbles back and looks up at him, nose bleeding and stunned. “Yeah. That's what a fist from a Big Bad vampire with a track record of killing slayers feels like. Wanna try listening to me now?”</p><p>“Eat shit and die.” She comes at him with both fists and then swings out her legs to kick him when he grabs her by the arms. He brings his knee up to block hers and throws her against the building wall on the opposite side of the alley hard enough to collapse the bricks inward with her body. She's slumped on the ground, struggling to get up, when he hears another set of footsteps running down the alley toward him. Without a thought, he turns and swings a left hook, almost hitting the second girl in the nose. She bends back and avoids while bringing her arm up to grab his. Then she stops. He's about to punch her in the gut when he straightens up, acknowledging that she's no longer swinging at him.</p><p>“Spike?”</p><p>While he's distracted, the first girl jumps on his back, swinging the stake down. The other girl catches her arm and throws her off.</p><p>“Knock it off, Cindy! He's on our side.”</p><p>“Faith. Thank the bloody stars.”</p><p>“Long time no see, six pack. What're you doing in Cleveland?”</p><p>“Came to help with the Hellmouth. Didn't realize you had rabid slayers up here.”</p><p>“Hey, you stupid bloodsucker--”</p><p>“Seriously, Cynthia. Didn't you read the pamphlet on Spike and Angel?”</p><p>“No. They're still vampires. They're all evil, souls or not.”</p><p>“If I was still evil, you would've been dead after the first punch, love. You're an awful fighter. How have you not been killed yet?” He turns back to Faith. “There's a pamphlet?”</p><p>“Yeah. I made it. Robin said it was the last straw when he broke up with me. Relationship was in the shitter anyway. How you been?”</p><p>"Had better. You?"</p><p>“Great. Training slayers, when they want training. Cindy here got sent by her mom. She doesn't seem to want training.”</p><p>“You go too slow. I want to learn how to kick, too.”</p><p>“Gotta learn how to throw a punch first, silly bird.”</p><p>“Listen you cold blooded asshole--”</p><p>“No, you listen! He's right, and you know it, because it's the same thing I've been telling you for two months. You swing wild. You rely solely on strength and don't want to learn any technique.”</p><p>“Oh, screw you both! I'm out.” She turns on her heel and stomps out of the alley.</p><p>Faith points at her. “<strong>That</strong> is a girl with a lot of anger. I remember being her. It didn't turn out well.”</p><p>“You turned out pretty bloody fantastic and you know it.”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks to Angel. Speaking of, you guys are working together, right? He here with you and didn't come to see me? I'll punch him.”</p><p>Spike looks away sheepishly. “Came on my own. Needed to start fresh somewhere. Hellmouth seemed like a good idea.”</p><p>“You never have good ideas, Spike.”</p><p>“Oi!”</p><p>Faith laughs at him and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let me show you to my favorite bar and we can catch up. And you can tell me how you and Angel had a falling out.”</p><p>He looks over at her, eyes wide. “Didn't say--”</p><p>“Didn't need to.”</p><p>Two hours later they're sitting at a table in a dark and dingy dive bar, downing another round and laughing at each other's stories.</p><p>“He did! Said I was too interested in sex and he didn't want to have it as often as me. Never in my life have I met a man who didn't want sex at least once every couple a days.”</p><p>“Robin was older, though, plum. Human men slow down.”</p><p>“Not that old! Anyway...you still haven't told me why you're here.”</p><p>“Did. Said I needed a fresh start.”</p><p>“But,” and here she pokes a finger into his bicep on each syllable, “you didn't say why.”</p><p>“You keep poking me like that, I'm not tellin' you one bit.”</p><p>“Little tipsy. Well?”</p><p>“Like you said. Angel and I had a fallin' out o' sorts. Needed to get away.”</p><p>“What about?”</p><p>“It's me and Angel. Don't need to be 'bout anythin'.”</p><p>“Bull.”</p><p>“Faith, don't push, yeah?”</p><p>“Oh, alright. You got a place to stay? You can come back to the council house with me.”</p><p>“Not a good idea. 'Specially if every slayer there is like that Cindy bint.”</p><p>“There's only a few there. We don't make them train anymore. We let them decide if it's what they want. Buffy and me, we never had a choice. She figured out how unfair that was after Simone.”</p><p>“Shouldn't have taken a rogue slayer. She shoulda known.”</p><p>“Yeah, we both should have. Well?”</p><p>“Gonna cot up in my car. S'all I got right now and Cleveland is GTA San Andreas these days.”</p><p>“GT what?”</p><p>“Video game. Grand Theft Auto. Not as good as Three, but fun. New one came out this year. Ain't played it yet.”</p><p>“You play video games?”</p><p>“Yeah. So wut?”</p><p>“William the Bloody, A.K.A. Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, is a gamer. Now I've heard and seen everything. I can die happy.”</p><p>“Hah bloody hah.”</p><p>***</p><p>Angel gets to Cleveland just after midnight. He knows Spike is now less than a half day ahead of him, so he should be easy enough to find. When he finally catches a whiff of him, it's outside an alley in a seedier part of town. He goes down the alley and smells the traces of another vampire and two women, as well. One of the female scents is very familiar. Angel smiles. <em>Of course he'd go to her. She'd accept him in without question.</em> The younger woman (girl really) went in one direction and Faith and Spike went in the other.</p><p>He follows the trail to a bar a few blocks away, where it branches off again: Faith in one direction, Spike in the other. He hesitates, not sure which to follow. <em>Spike might have talked to Faith. She might have some idea if I hurt him somehow. That's why he ran last time. It's got to be why he ran this time. If I follow her scent to the watcher's house, though, I might lose track of Spike. I can't risk that. Even if he refuses to talk to me, at least I can try talking to him, telling him how I feel. If he doesn't feel the same, then....well, I don't know what then, but I can't let him go without at least trying</em>.</p><p>He follows Spike's trail nearly all the way across the city, on the other side of the river, near the lake and a small airport. Plenty of parking around here for him to put his car somewhere out of the way. Angel almost loses the trail again. He stops to smell deeply and catches not just the scent of Spike, but of pig's blood. <em>Good. At least he's eating. He hardly ate anything the night before we flew over to Scotland</em>. He follows on soft feet, as quiet as only a stalking vampire can be.</p><p>When he spots him, he's sitting on the roof of the Viper, staring out past the airport lights at the lake. Angel makes sure to stay downwind, to avoid Spike taking off on him, and slowly creeps up behind the car. Spike moves nearly imperceptibly, and if Angel didn't know him so well, he'd think it was nothing. It's the next second when Spike swings down off the car and nearly punches him in the face that Angel realizes Spike just heard something, not necessarily Angel.</p><p>“Bloody....I just about took your head off! What're you doin', playin' stalking games with me? Better yet, how'd you figure out I was here? What're you even doin' here?” Spike's trying desperately to hide his panic and confusion and not doing a very good job of it.</p><p>Angel has to keep himself from smiling, relieved Spike's yelling at him rather than refusing to talk to him. He had been afraid he'd followed him all this way for nothing. “Didn't want you bolting off the second you smelled me coming. And I was lucky enough to run into a cop right where I lost your trail in New Mexico. He remembered the exact Brit I was talking about.”</p><p>“Why would I bolt?” Spike says, trying to cover for the fact that he would have, indeed, bolted if he'd smelled Angel coming. <em>I'm literally quaking right now next to him, trying to figure out what to do, how to get away from him without coming off like a nancy. When did you turn into such a bloody coward in the face of love, Spike?</em></p><p>“Because you've done it to me twice already. I swear, if I didn't know better, that you're trying to get rid of me.”</p><p>“Wasn't...didn't...oh bloody hell, I just needed a break, okay?”</p><p>“You could have taken a break in L.A. You could have told us where you were going. Illyria said, while she was showing me the last place on the map she sensed you, that she saw you leave with a bag full of stuff and your broadsword. I thought you'd gone for good.”</p><p><em>I <strong>was</strong> gone for good, you nonce. Can't bloody get away from you; you track me down every time</em>. He decides to redirect the conversation. “Still ain't answered me. What're you doing here?”</p><p>“Looking for you. As Dawn would say: duh.”</p><p>Spike eyes him sideways while taking a few paces back. “Why?” He can't hide the anxiety from his voice, afraid the answer will be that Angel just wanted to give him a piece of his mind for running off.</p><p>“You left. You didn't tell anyone. I was worried. Last time you did this, it was because of me. I wanted to make sure I hadn't hurt you again somehow.”</p><p>“Not every thing's always 'bout you, Angel.” Spike hopes he comes across as dismissive and condescending, but he can hear the tremor in his own voice and highly doubts it.</p><p>Angel's trying very hard not to lose his temper with Spike, but the blond's stubbornness is making it extremely difficult. He says, quietly, “I know that, Spike. This is about you. I get it. Can you at least give me some hint of what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what I can do to help?”</p><p><em>Can't. Won't. Don't think I could stand it, bein' rejected by you. Outta everyone I've ever loved, you're the last one I can stand it from. All those years of hatin' you was easier than lovin' you's been</em>. Spike's frozen, unable to form any actual words to throw Angel off, to make him go away. He looks away and says in a whisper, “You can't help.”</p><p>“Spike--”</p><p>“No! Just bloody well leave me alone, damn it!” Spike twirls around and is in the speedster faster than Angel can grab him. He peels out of the parking lot so fast, Angel's afraid he's going to crash. His fists balling, he takes off at a full run, but loses him after just five blocks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Things Changed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Talk to me. Please.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frustrated beyond belief, not sure if he wants to tear Spike's heart out or fuck him until he can't stand in order to run away, Angel starts the walk back to the bar and from there follows Faith's trail to the council house. Spike's car is parked out front at a bad angle, one tire up on the sidewalk, bumper putting an indent in the no parking sign. Angel glowers at the car, trying to remember it's Spike's and not his. <em>If the idiot wants to put a dent in the bumper of his gorgeous fucking Viper, that used to be my gorgeous fucking Viper, let him. God, I'm going to kill him!</em></p><p>Angel knocks on the door and waits. A young girl, maybe fifteen, answers the door. <em>She couldn't have been more than eleven when Buffy had Willow do that spell. God, to be called into this life at eleven</em>. All his sympathies for the girl fly out the window when she opens her mouth, however. “God, how many damn vampires know where our house is? Go away before I dust your sorry ass.”</p><p>“Uhm. My name's Angel. Faith knows me. Could you get her please?”</p><p>“Piss off, bloodsucker!” Angel has the door slammed in his face. He's turning to go when he hears it opening behind him. At the sound of the voice coming through the door, he turns back around.</p><p>“--pires don't just come knocking on our door, Cind—Angel?!”</p><p>“Hi Faith. Can you invite me in, please?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, come in.”</p><p>“Are you crazy?! You're inviting another one in?!”</p><p>“Pamphlet, Cynthia. Read it. Better yet, go to bed. It's two in the morning and you have summer school tomorrow.”</p><p>“I'm not sleeping with those things in the house.”</p><p>“Well, guess you're going to school with no sleep, then.”</p><p>“Faith!”</p><p>“Shut it, girl. Angel is a good friend of mine. You already insulted Spike, now you insulted Angel. You're just about to get put on a bus back home.”</p><p>The girl practically growls at her and stomps up the stairs. Angel hears a door slam. Faith turns to him and grins.</p><p>“Cindy has some anger issues she's working on.”</p><p>“I noticed. Spike's here, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, he's in the den with the other two girls. Well, young women, really. They're seventeen and twenty. They asked him to tell them about the battle of L.A. Right this way. You guys okay? He looked like he was running from his own ghost when he got here.”</p><p>Angel's scowl deepens. “No, just me.”</p><p>“Huh. Don't kill the gorgeous vampire in my house.”</p><p>“I promise, I won't kill myself.”</p><p>Faith laughs at him as she leads Angel into a room with a large fireplace and several couches. He sees Spike, sitting with his back held ridgid on one of the couches, eyes studiously staring at the fire, refusing to look at Angel. Angel growls slightly without meaning to and both the girls in the room jump. Spike flinches, but doesn't move. Faith looks between the two of them and decides to try to break the tension.</p><p>“Hey six pack, I thought you were telling my girls a story?”</p><p>“He heard the front door and told us he'd tell us the rest later. He was just getting to the part with the dragon, too.”</p><p>“Huh. I don't remember you mentioning a dragon, Angel.”</p><p>“Didn't seem important.” He says tightly. Spike still won't look at him. “Spike.” Still nothing. “Damn it, Spike! We need to talk.”</p><p>Hearing the anger in Angel's voice gives Spike the shove he needs to turn and look at Angel. His eyes are icy, he's put his mask of cynicism on and Angel gets instantly angrier at being locked out. “Don't need to talk about nothin'.” Faith moves quietly across the room to stand between the young women and the two vampires who look like they're getting ready to fight. She doesn't actually escort them out, thinking it'll be a good lesson for them to see how two highly skilled and dangerous vampires fight.</p><p>Angel, despite every promise he's made to himself, loses it and stalks across the room, grabbing Spike by his duster's lapels and hauling him up on his feet. “Stop being a stubborn fucking idiot!”</p><p>Spike shoves Angels hands off his lapels and yells back at him. “Oh, I'm an idiot again, am I? Just because I ain't doing what you want me to do? Fuck you, Angel!” Spike pushes against Angels chest with both hands. It's an amateur move, not one motivated by a need to fight, but more a need to get Angel further away from him so he can continue to pretend not to care, so he can remain angry.</p><p>Angel starts to ball up his fists before it sinks in, before he perceives what Spike's doing. He reigns in his anger by turning his back to Spike and walking a few steps toward the fire. When he has control of himself again, he turns around and says in a low voice, “I'm not going to fight you, William. I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me what's wrong and how I can make it better.”</p><p>Spike can't control his emotions any longer and the desperation creeps into his voice. “You can't make it any bloody better! I thought I knew what I was doin'. I let you in and I shouldn't've. I let you close and I shouldn't've. You ain't hurt me, 'cause I ain't gonna give you the chance.”</p><p>Angel's sincerely confused, knowing what Spike's said, but not understanding. His voice is back at normal pitch when he asks him, “Why do you think I'm going to hurt you?”</p><p>“'Cause...'cause I just do, alright! I got my reasons.” Spike's now looking back at the fire, but not cold and cynically. Angel sees fear and longing in equal measure. He steps back toward Spike.</p><p>“Talk to me. Please.”</p><p>Please is a word used sparingly between them. Angelus used to beat William bloody every time he used the word, told him a proper vampire never begged, that if he had any pride he'd never use the word again. Angel reserves it for when he needs Spike to know he's sincere and not the demon Angelus was. Spike uses it even less, usually only when in the throes of passion. Every time Angel has said it, Spike has listened. Which makes what Spike says next hurt all the more.</p><p>“I can't. I tell you and you'll find a way to hate me again, find a way to push me away. Better I leave than deal with you rejecting me like that.”</p><p>“Reject you? Spike, I...”</p><p>Spike's looking up with a wordless plea in his eyes, full of desperation and fear and despair and Angel can't bear to see it. He crosses the last two steps to Spike and takes his face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Spike's eyes are threatening tears, but he blinks them back.</p><p>“Don't make me hurt you to make you go, Angel. Can't bear the thought of it.”</p><p>“I'm not leaving,” Angel says and then leans forward to kiss him. Spike shudders and shuts his eyes, his emotions too strung out to resist his own heart. He leans into it and grabs Angel's shoulders, hanging on like it's the last way he has of holding himself up. <em>He still kisses like his life depends on it. I hope he never stops.</em> A gasp from the side reminds them they're not alone in the room. Spike buries his head in Angel's chest, unable to deal with anyone else at the moment.</p><p>Angel turns his head to see one of the girls looking away, one of them with her hand on her mouth, and Faith smiling like the cat who caught the canary. She puts hands on the girl's shoulders and points them toward the door. As she's closing the door behind her, she throws over her shoulder, “No judgment, by the way, but that was really hot.” Spike snorts into Angel's shirt.</p><p>He raises his head and looks at Angel. Angel's never seen him appear so vulnerable. “Whatcha go 'n do that for? I was really ready to end it, no matter how much it hurt.”</p><p>“Just so I wouldn't reject you?”</p><p>“Got my reasons for thinkin' you might.”</p><p>“And those are?”</p><p>“Don't make me say it.”</p><p>“Okay. Maybe it's easier if I say what I came to say, the reason I was willing to track you down wherever it is you'd run off to and the reason I'll do it again a thousand times if I have to.”</p><p>“Angel, don't.” The fear is back in Spike's eyes.</p><p>“Stop. Before you even think of backing away from me, listen to me. I love you. Do you understand? I mean it. You're an irritating, rude, obnoxious idiot and I love you. You're a beautiful man and I love you. You're kind in spite of yourself, you're a good friend, and I love you. You're too emotional, too driven by instinct, too impulsive and I love you. You have horrible taste in music and you wrecked my car and I love you. You drive me absolutely insane and I can't live without you. If you ever run away from me again, I'm going to track you to wherever you are, even if it's some hell dimension, drag you back to me and chain you to my damn bed. I want you. Not just sex. Not just as a friend. As you. I want <strong>you</strong>, Spike. All of you.”</p><p>Spike is staring at Angel, not bothering to stop the tears at this point. Angel wipes them away and Spike catches his hand. “God. Thought I was the bloody awful poet. Love you. Love you so much I'm fit to burst from it. Thought there was no way you could love me.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it wouldn't be the first time I'm right and you're wrong.”</p><p>“Oi!”</p><p>“Tsk. Shush. Come here.” Angel pulls Spike to him again and they kiss long and slow, relearning every part of each other's mouths. Angel's hands push off Spike's duster and Spike's hands push off Angel's coat. Angel breaks away abruptly. Spike's face falls and Angel has to pat him on the cheek. “Gotta lock the door. Impressionable young ladies in the house.”</p><p>Spike recovers immediately, raises an eyebrow at him as he crosses over to the door, and then affects his most effective sexy smirk. “Wouldn't put it past Faith to sneak a look.”</p><p>Angel throws him a chiding glance, then seems to consider it. “You know, that's actually possible. I'm putting a table in front of the door.”</p><p>Spike chuckles, a low sound that is still husky from tears and it sends chills down Angel's spine. He moves as fast as possible back to Spike's side and resumes kissing him. Spike returns the kiss with enthusiasm, pushing against Angel's fang buds, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and then down to twist back around Angel's tongue. His hands are rubbing across Angel's pectorals, down to the sensitive buds and back up to the collarbone again. He unbuttons Angel's shirt all the way, taking his time. Angel groans into his mouth when he pushes his hands under the shirt, separating it while rubbing his hands across Angel's chest.</p><p>Angel relishes the skin-on-skin contact and needs to get more of it. He shrugs off his shirt and then pulls off Spike's before pulling the other man against himself. Their bare chests and abdominals meet. Angel starts to kiss Spike's face, each cheek and each eye, erasing every last trace of tears, even as Spike is threatening to shed more in pure relief. He's been rejected so many times that it was impossible for him to think Angel could want him the same way, that Angel could love him the same way. The knowledge that he does, that Angel loves him in spite of, even because of, all his flaws is overwhelming. He knows Angel is like him and doesn't love by halves; it's all or nothing and Angel loves him.</p><p>He catches a sob in his throat and Angel pulls back, looking at him in apprehension, certain another storm is about to blow in. When Spike looks back at him, everything he's feeling is in his eyes: relief, joy, revelation, love, so much love. Angel sucks in a breath and closes the distance one more time, lips locking tight over Spike's, hands locking tight on his hips. Spike brings his hands up and tangles them in Angel's hair, reveling in the way their chests and stomachs rub against each other.</p><p>Angel releases one of Spike's hips and runs his hand across the blond's abdomen, loving the feel of muscle there. He suddenly smiles into their kiss and Spike tilts his head back to see. It's a mischievous grin and Spike raises an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“Sixpack?”</p><p>“I was shirtless the second time we ever met.”</p><p>“Huh. And she managed to resist running her hands over you, like this? And here, Buffy always accused me of giving Faith too much credit. Looks like I didn't give her enough.” He runs both hands over Spike's upper abdominals, up and out. Spike tries to speak.</p><p>“Mmmm. You..” Angel brings his hands down to the second set and repeats the motion</p><p>“...uhm...you resisted the same for...ungh” Angel's hands have dipped down over the lower abdominals, repeating the motion again.</p><p>“..for over...over a century and a quar...quarter.” Angel's hands are now slipping below his belt line.</p><p>“God, love, that's good.”</p><p>“Say that again.”</p><p>“'S good.”</p><p>“Not that part.”</p><p>Spike smiles wide and refocuses his eyes from Angel's hands to Angel's face. “Love.”</p><p>Angel's brown eyes smolder with yellow and gold flecks. “There'd better not be a damn day that goes by when you're not calling me that.”</p><p>“Not a day, love.” Spike moves in to reclaim Angel's lips, his own hands going down to Angel's stomach. There's a thin layer of fat, unlike Spike's, but then nothing but bulky muscle underneath. He gives as good as he's gotten, his own hands wrapping around Angel's belt when he gets that low, moving inward to release the buckle. He doesn't stop there and slides Angel's zipper down, lifting him out. He drops down on his knees and takes Angel's cock into his mouth, swallowing around the head. They'd both figured out how to do this after a few tries and Spike's already become a master at it.</p><p><em>He's always had a nasty mouth. And I love him all the more for it</em>. Angel's hands run through Spike's hair, releasing his curls from the persistent gel. He doesn't move into Spike's mouth; instead, he lets Spike take the lead and just enjoys the feel of the tip of Spike's tongue near the base of his shaft, the cord of muscle leading down his throat, moving up against him as each swallow caresses his glans. Spike backs off, closing his lips tight as he moves them from shaft to tip, then takes him in again, once more swallowing around him. He repeats this several times until Angel feels an orgasm building and pulls himself out of Spike's mouth.</p><p>Spike makes a sound of protest, but Angel drops to his knees and erases the sound with a kiss before moving his lips to Spike's jawline. Spike leans back his head and as he kisses under Spike's chin, Angel's hands go to Spike's jeans to undo the button and zipper. Instead of lifting Spike's member out, though, he pushes the jeans down to his knees on the floor, his lips placing small kisses down the line of Spike's sternum as he bends down. He does the same to his own, next. He moves forward and lines up their cocks, taking both in one large hand. Spike brings his hand down to half circle around Angel's and together they pump up and down.</p><p>Before they can go too far, though, Angel moves his hand away, forcing another small, wordless protest from Spike before he can fully gather his senses to speak. “Need you, Angel. Love you. Want you so badly. Please.”</p><p>“You have me. I love you. I need to be inside you, now.”</p><p>“Yes, God, please.”</p><p>Angel puts his arms around Spike and lowers him to the floor before removing shoes, boots, trousers, jeans. He lifts both of Spike's legs up and around his middle, putting Spike's ass high off the floor, his weight resting on his shoulders. He doesn't have any lube, didn't come prepared for this, so he takes his nail and makes a small cut on the finger he slides into Spike, letting the blood lubricate the way. Spike's crying out his name, over and over, interspersed with 'love you'. He removes the finger and lines up his cock, recognizing Spike's not fully stretched, but unable to wait. When he pushes in, Spike relaxes to open around him, as if his body knows it's not an intrusion, but a welcome guest. It doesn't take many pumps before both of them are coming, crying out the other's name. Angel swears the only reason he still has his soul is because he knows they're in a house full of Slayers.</p><p>Angel lowers them both to the floor, keeping his still-hard cock inside of Spike. One hand rests on the floor, the other on the side of Spike's face. Angel speaks softly,“You know when I fell in love with you?” Spike looks over at him, the question in his eyes. “I don't know. I keep trying to find a single point, but there isn't one. It's like it's always been there, waiting for both of us to be ready for it.”</p><p>Spike nods at him and draws in a breath to give his own answer, “It's been one little brick after the other, first a wall we built between us that had to come tumbling down, then a bridge drawing us together, then a tower so high we were both afraid to climb. Took the stairs. Should've built ourselves a bloody elevator. Woulda been so much easier. Wouldn't 'o made so many missteps.”</p><p>“I don't know. I think we're stronger, this way. No skipped steps we have to repeat. No changes to make.”</p><p>“Nah, mate. Things keep changing. We just gotta keep changin' with 'em to make sure we make it. First thing we need to do is have Willow find a way to anchor your soul, like mine. Ain't gonna have you losin' it from shagging me blind one too many a time.”</p><p>“Huh. Now that is a change.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“<strong>You</strong> coming up with a good plan.”</p><p>“Oh, screw you.”</p><p>“Well, it is your turn.”</p>
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